Harry Potter and the Magic Unleashed
by Sooner90
Summary: Harry was rescued from the ruins of the cottage in Godric's Hollow by the family elf. His is raised in seclusion with only the house elf and a ribald portrait for company. Follow Harry as he learns about magic and life outside his sheltered hideaway.
1. A Trump in the Night

Chapter 1; A Trump in the Night

October 31st, 1981

An eerie, almost supernatural calm had settled on Godric's Hollow. It was not the quiet streets that were the cause. The "Hollow" was a a small, rural village, after all. Nor was it the low hanging fog that wreathed the ground in a clinging shroud. No. Fogs and quiet country lanes were not uncommon in October in this part of Southwestern England. The source of this quiet eeriness was wholly _other_. It could be seen in the eyes of children, walking fearfully with eyes downcast, dressed in their festive costumes, shoulders slumped and withdrawn. It could be seen in their parents who hurried them from the street. The formless unease and hidden fears of the citizens was made manifest in two sudden pops of apparation and the hooded cowls of two arriving wizards. Lord Voldemort had come to Godric's Hollow.

Tippy was a good house elf. She dutifully went about the tasks of keeping the house at Potter Manor. She was diligent and hardworking, humming tunelessly as she dusted the guest bedrooms, even though the Master was not in residence. Tippy was normally thrilled with her work. For eighty-three years she had served the Potter family. They were everything she believed a wizard family should be. Strong, kind and proud. Normally, just the thought of her Masters left Tippy with a spring in her step. But not this night. This night Tippy was scared; Scared for Master James and his family. Fear is NOT an emotion that house elves are particularly good at dealing with.

"Master isn't safe!" She muttered to herself while dusting a chess set. Her agitation made obvious by the broad, almost violent sweeps of the feather duster and the fearful, sidestepping chess pieces as they tried to avoid the worst of the onslaught. One knight took particular offense at the her attack and lowered his lance to charge the offending duster. His cry of "Have at you!" went unheard by the unhappy elf.

"Tippy told Master that he should take her with them!" The little elf grew more agitated by the second. "What is Master going to do without Tippy?" She gazed out the window to the north in the general direction where she could sense her Master was, but she couldn't locate him. Tippy knew that bad wizards were after her Master's family. She knew that they had gone into hiding and were protected by powerful wards. She knew these things but they brought her little comfort.

The Potters were protected by far more than mere wards. They were, in fact, protected by one of the most powerful charms in existence; the _Fidelius _Charm. One of the features that made the _Fidelius_ unique was that it could remove all knowledge of a place from people's minds. So, even though Tippy had spent her entire life at Potter manor and could _feel _it as though it were her very bones, the presence of the little cottage on the north side of the estate had been seamlessly removed from her awareness. Despite that, no charm could erase the intimate bond of a house elf for its Master. So Tippy could sense her masters, but she couldn't find them. She could also sense with a growing unease, that her masters were in _danger. _

Another quirk of the _Fidelius_ charm is that it affects people's perceptions, not reality. A property hidden under a _Fidelius_ charm does not move, it is not materially affected in any way. Though no one other than those entrusted with the secret can perceive it, it exists in the same time and space that it did before.

So, Tippy looking out the window at Potter Manor could not see the cottage. She could not see the eerie red and green flashes of spellfire as it spilled out of the windows of the cottage. But, fortunately for the wizarding world, she could see their reflection off the trees that surrounded the cottage that were not covered by the charm. Also, while she could not hear the angry screams as James Potter made his final stand on the stairs, she could feel his suffering. So with a great heaving sob and a twist of her ears, Tippy disappeared from Potter Manor. Rematerializing at the edge of the wards, Tippy was still at a loss how to proceed. She knew her Master was nearby, she could feel it. But everywhere she looked, there were only trees. While she paced back and forth across the leaf covered grass, wondering what to do, she suddenly felt her Master James' life wink out of existence. "Master!" she screamed in anguish. "M-M-M-Master James! Tippy is here! Tippy is right here!" But it was no use.

Tippy started running through the trees calling for her masters, until a misstep brought her face first into a large oak tree. The small elf fell back with a thud! As she looked up into the sky, she saw again the telltale flashes of reflected spell light in the canopy above. She leapt to her feet and just as she was going to run back the way she came, she felt a gut twisting wrench as her connection to Lilly Potter, her lovely, precious mistress, was suddenly severed.

"No!" Tippy sobbed. "Not Mistress Lilly!" Sinking to her knees, the house elf dug her nimble fingers into the soil and pulled out large clods of mud and grass, hitting herself in the head with them. "Tippy is so useless! Bad, bad, bad Tippy!"

Before she could utter another word, she felt a sudden breeze on her face and watched as the trees were bent backward by a fierce blast. Through her connection, she could feel the pain and anguish of young Harry and she could think of no way to help him. She spun around madly looking for anyone, anything to help her. No help was to be found.

Fat tears fell from her large, brown eyes and great, heaving sobs shook her small frame. In a fit of maddened grief she flung herself at an Oak tree and started beating her head against its coarse bark until her blood dripped down the trunk and mingled with the sparse grey grass at its base. Eventually she collapsed in a heap. But such was her resolve that she started crawling through the grass, her face a bloody ruin and her eyes swollen and blinded by blood.

Her only sense of direction was her feeling for her last remaining Master. Blindly and unerringly she found one of the few weaknesses in the _Fidelius_ charm. Her perceptions narrowed to one, she wasn't fooled by their misdirection. Her blind faith and devotion allowed her to persist in defiance of her senses. In great, wracking sobs she made her way at last, beyond the threshold of the charm, up the front steps and into the foyer. From the upstairs, she could hear Master Harry crying. Drawing a sudden breath, she concentrated and rematerialized at his side.

Scrambling over chunks of debris from the caved-in roof, Tippy bumped her head on the side of Harry's crib and pulled herself up by the oaken frame. She reached in and pulled the crying infant to her breast and rocked him gently, making shh-ing noises under her breath.

"It's okay little master. Tippy's gots you. Tippy's gots you now," she said. But, everything was far from okay. Master James and Mistress Lilly were dead. Of that, Tippy was sure. House elves were not brilliant thinkers, but Tippy could feel their loss like a torn fingernail, swollen and sore. Blinking the blood from her eyes, she surveyed the carnage in the room. Broken timbers and busted bricks glimmered at the edges of her vision, as well as the corpse of Lilly Potter a few feet from the crib. The sight made Tippy want to pick up a brick and beat herself unconscious, but the wailing youngster in her arms held her in check. Care for the Master came first; punishment could wait.

"What is Tippy to do now?" she said. "Bad wizards did this. Bad Wizards cames and they's killed my Masters."

Her eyes darting quickly back and forth, she was torn. She had no one to give her orders. Tippy was used to being told what to do. But the Potter line had dwindled over the years until one little babe was all that was left. Tippy would have to make a decision. On the one hand, she knew she should take the child to a wizard. Maybe one of Master James' friends, but she hesitated. She didn't know who had killed her masters and she didn't know when the bad wizards would come back. In the end, she had to rely on her instinct. There were two instincts that were virtually screaming in her mind. The first was to care for the young master and the second was to hide. Yes, she decided. She would hide the young master until someone came who could better care for the baby. Having made her decision, Tippy held the baby close to her body and popped away.


	2. Sealed in Blood

Chapter 2; Sealed in Blood

Tippy and Harry reappeared several hundred yards away in the poorly lit basement of Potter Manor. Everywhere was stacked boxes and trunks which housed everything from old tapestries and china to her Master and Mistress' old school books and papers.

Snapping her fingers, Tippy made the oil lamps flicker into life and a pile of sheets arrange themselves into a makeshift bed. Another snap and the boxes and crates were banished to the far walls and the tapestries were rolled up and marched into an unused corner. As the items flew about, one box managed to upend an oil painting that was pushed into the corner. It flipped over and landed on the floor.

The subject of the painting, a wizard of middle age with a mop of dark hair and a long, wild beard that was braided with colorful beads was wearing a green and gold doublet and stockings with a gold watch fob dangling from his jacket pocket. As the painting hit the ground , the image awoke as if from a deep sleep and looked around wildly.

"What all this then?" it exclaimed. "Back for another round, you cur! Show yourself, Black! I'll strip the hide off your mangy back and use your scalp to wipe me arse! Placing me down here in this foul, misbegotten dungeon…"

Looking around wildly with his wand aloft, the image in the painting spotted the house elf's look of alarm and the crying bundle at her feet. "What's this? You! Elf! What's happened? Is that James' spawn you have there? I admit he's not much to look at, but surely you should'na be throwing him out!"

Tippy gave him a severe look that might have been imposing if it didn't come from a dirty and bloodied house elf.

"Tippy is not for throwin' anthings out." She sniffed. "Master James and Miss Lilly's got killed and Tippy's got little master to care for now."

"What? James and Lilly dead? What the devil are you talking about, elf. They can't be dead. Why I know for a fact that they were under _Fidelius_. They're as safe and happy as a louse on a whore's cunny."

The figure seemed to have worked himself into a fit or righteous anger and indignation, until by leaning forward he seemed to finally realize the shape the elf was in. Leaning back in his frame, he took a sobering breath and shook his head. "What happened?"

So, Tippy told her tale. The painting listened patiently, quite against his nature, until she had finished with her rescue of the child. As a man, Charlus Potter was a bit of a rogue. However, his raucous and brazen temperament belied a cunning and powerful mind. He knew how the _Fidelius_ was constructed. If the youngest Potter family was dead, that meant betrayal. While he had spent the better part of four months in this basement, he wasn't always so. Before his forced exile at the hands of Sirius Black, he had hung over the mantle in the study. He didn't know for sure who the secret keeper was, but knew a short list of likely candidates. Dumbledore, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew. He didn't think any of them were capable of this sort of treachery, but knew that every man, no matter how noble, could break. Torture, blackmail and coercion were the stock and trade of dark wizards. None were darker than the madman, Voldemort.

If James and Lilly were truly dead, and he could hardly doubt it after hearing the elf's tale, then the boy was in a pickle indeed. The last scion of a noble house, beset by enemies unknown, helpless and vulnerable. The house itself would soon be overrun with ministry officials and aurors, any of which could be in the dark lord's employ. Helpless and vulnerable were not positions that Charlus Potter was comfortable with. In life, he had once lobbied to replace the motto on the family crest, _fortes_ _fortuna adiuvat_ (fortune favors the bold) with _Acta non verba _(actions not words). He preferred decisive, unpredictable action. He was also scared for his young descendant.

As a painting, there was little to nothing he could do to protect him. Taking stock of the situation, he began to mentally list their assets and liabilities. Assets: One physically damaged and possibly mentally unhinged house-elf; One smashingly handsome, cunning oil painting; Numerous family friends and allies. Liabilities: One mentally unhinged uber-powerful dark lord and an unknown number of minions and allies; unknown numbers of allies subverted; No access to outside news or intelligence; Limited access to resources. It didn't paint a pretty picture. The first order of business was security.

"Elf!" he bellowed.

"Yes sir." Tippy replied.

"Go and fetch some essence of murtlap, and a bottle of blood replenisher and dreamless sleep from the potion stores and some clean cloths from upstairs. Also, bring down a cot and some bandages. Hurry!"

The elf stood there, wringing her hands in apparent anxiety.

"Well? Get moving!"

"Tippy mustn't leave Master Harry! Master Harry needs Tippy!" she cried.

"Of all the misbegotten gnome drippings…." He muttered. "Listen Elf. Young Harry there is fine for the moment. However, if you do not get me the things we need, we will soon be overrun by every would-be dark wizard and money-grubbing politician in England. If you value his life, get your flea-bitten sack of diseased goblin hide out of this cellar and do as I say! That's an order!"

"Yes Master Charlus, sir. Tippy is going right away!" And with that exclamation she popped away, only to return minutes later with a sack of clinking bottles under one arm and dragging a cot under the other. After they were situated, Charlus directed her to get the babe situated on the cot and applied essence of murtlap to the odd, lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead and to her own wounds. Luckily, the babe had quieted and was clearly on the verge of sleep. He also directed her to administer a small dose of blood replenisher and dreamless sleep to the boy. That done, he decided to move to step two of his plan. Security.

After much remonstration with the elf, he was able to convince her to return to the cottage. Since the death of James and Lilly, the _Fidelius_ should have become unanchored and the charm's power should have diminished. He ordered her to remove the ward stones from the property and return with them, along with the Potter signet ring and whatever of Harry's possessions they would need. He also ordered her to move Lilly's and James' bodies out of the cottage and then set fire to the nursery. Hopefully, this would convince everyone that the young boy was killed in the attack.

The ward stones were a different matter, altogether. While Potter manor was heavily warded, it was not unbreachable. After the aurors discovered the death of James and Lilly, they would thoroughly search the property. If the _Fidelius_ could be re-anchored before it fully dissipated, it would go a long way toward the security they needed. Although it required a fully capable and powerful wizard to cast a _Fidelius_, the anchoring required only a drop of the secret keepers blood on the runes inscribed on the ward stones. While it would be insufficient to ward the entirety of the manor, a small section, like the basement, could be warded until such a time as better arrangements could be made.

This they did. The elf, under Charlus' direction, placed the ward stones at the four corners of the basement, and anchored them with a drop of the elf's blood. The _Fidelius_, though weakened by its replacement, would hold for months, if not years. Tippy also used her magic to expand the basement until it was nearly quadrupled in size. The door leading to the upstairs was bricked over and sealed and the only method of ingress and egress was by elf. This was by no means ideal, as the child's safety was solely in Tippy's hands, but it made up for it by being utterly secure. A herd of aurors could dissect the house, but they would never be able to even detect the basement, let alone breach it.

The next few days proved to be busy ones for Tippy. With dedication only an elf could display, she transformed the basement quarters from a dark, damp basement to a large, well-lit, slightly damp basement. Walls had been erected that created a small bedroom for Harry and his toys, while a stove, some food, a dining table and chairs, place settings and utensils were liberated from the house upstairs. She even managed to transport a settee and a couple of wing backed chairs from the parlor.

All in all it was a very cozy arrangement. That's not to say that it was all sunshine and light. Both boy and elf were tramautized by the loss of James and Lilly. Both were prone to awake in the night, crying out for the deceased couple. But, at such times they had each other to cling to. Young Harry was blessed, if you can call it that, with youth. Memories of his parents would gradually fade. Cries of "mummy" and "daddy" or even "pa'foo" and "moony" were gradually replaced with "Tippy" and "unc'a."

For the elf's part, she had a young charge to care for. Harry became the width and breadth of her existence. Though she still mourned for the lost, she couldn't resist the ingrained joy that every house elf received from service to her master. The needs of a one year old were all-consuming. Diapers to be changed, meals to be prepared, and the general shepherding required by the curious hands and unsteady feet of a toddler filled her days and nights. All in all, they settled into a steady rhythm.


	3. A Study in Paints

Chapter 3; A Study in Paints

_December 14, 1981_

Charlus' portrait was placed on the wall of the makeshift den and even his raucous commentary and biting remarks became a welcome part of the routine. Even when Harry had smeared apricot jam on his painting in a understandable, if ill-conceived attempt to give his "unc'a" a hug, his caustic reply was hardly damaging. After all, referring to Harry as a "foul, untutored swine" could not be understood by the boy and went unremarked by the stoic elf. If anything, it helped to increase Tippy's vocabulary. When late at night, they would occasionally argue over some point of criticism on her child-rearing skills, she would occasionally serve his epithets right back at him. Not normal behavior for an elf, but these were far from normal circumstances. The first major row they had came two weeks into their self-imposed exile.

The day began normally for the trio. After breakfast, Tippy and Harry settled on the living room rug that was converted from a tapestry depicting ancient knights battling dragons on a verdant field. Tippy was reading to Harry from a children's book in her halting manner. She was barely more educated than a child herself. Charlus, in the mean time suffered to make occasional sniffs in indignation or made comments like "fuzzy bunnies, indeed! What tripe!" After an interminable (to Charlus) hour, he had had enough.

"Elf!" he said. "We need news. It's all well and good to play house with the boy, but he needs real supervision. Human supervision. It is hardly meet for a future head of the Potter House to be brought up on naught but tales of bunnies and homesick toads!"

"Tippy takes good care of young master!" the elf exclaimed.

"Yes, yes! You are the very paragon of motherly virtue. But what news of the rest of the world. What is the reaction to the murder of James and Lilly? Are they searching for the boy? What has Voldemort been up to? We need answers."

"What can Tippy do?" she asked.

"Run down to the village and fetch a copy of the _Prophet_. Take some galleons and pick up some groceries for the lad. Then come right back. But, for the love of Merlin, don't stop and talk to anyone or answer any questions. If you get into any trouble, pop back here immediately. Do you understand?"

The elf stood, wringing her hands. "Tippy understands. Tippy is smart. Tippy is NOT good for nothin' gnome drippings." She glared at the painting, then realizing what she was being asked, she looked worriedly at her young charge. "But, what about…"

"Leave the lad with me. Even that little devil can't get into much trouble in a mere hour."

Seeing her look of reluctance, he rolled his eyes. Then a look of delight crossed his face. "Of course if you know a good sticking charm, I'm sure it would do nicely…"

"No, no, no!" Tippy said with indignation. "Tippy is not sticking young master. Tippy has a few ideas where to stick Master's painting."

"Fine, fine. Just leave him with his toys and such. He can entertain himself for a little while."

After a little more cajoling, threatening and begging, Tippy finally agreed to go. With no less than ten goodbye hugs and kisses to Harry and several threats to Charlus, she popped away. With an immense look of satisfaction, Charlus looked down at his young charge. The young Potter was evidently enthralled with the prospect of seeing how far a crayon could fit up his nose.

"Leave off!" Charlus exclaimed. Looking around the room, his eyes alighted on the offending children's books. Turning his gleaming eyes on Harry, he sat upright in his chair and took a deep breath.

"Child, I think it's time to broaden your horizons a wee bit. Leave behind the muggle tales and sip from the font of wisdom!"

His enthusiasm was hardly dampened when Harry looked at him quizzically with a crayon still halfway up his nose. "Un'ca?" he said.

"We have here a golden opportunity, me boy. Unchaperoned and unfettered, we Potter men must forge our own way. We must push the limits, as it were, and go where angels fear to tread. Eh, lad?"

"For' ahead!" Harry giggled.

"Aye, that's a bonny lad! Forge ahead, indeed!" Charlus exclaimed, thrilled with Harry's apparent enthusiasm. "What say we forego the banalities of childish yarns and explore th' true stuff of legends. Tell me, young Harry, have you ever heard the tale of Wendelin the Weird and the three Hags?" he asked.

"Weird!" Harry yelled.

"Even so." Charlus replied.

"For' ahead!" Harry replied.

So saying, Charlus began his tale, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "Well, Wendelin was a big man, filled with prodigious appetites and other….er…features." Flustered, he continued, "Anyway, he was a big man with a big appetite, but hardly discriminating in his tastes, if you know what I mean!"

Harry gave him a puzzled look, then brightened up. "Weird!" he yelled.

"Just so!" Charlus answered, once more caught up in his tale. "While out tending his garden, he came upon three Hags sitting on a broomstick, bigger than any broomstick he had ever seen. Wendelin, being very keen, had a thought that would seldom occur to lesser men…." And so, Charlus told a tale that is not often told in books and never to boys of Harry's tender age. Nevertheless, Harry sat and listened raptly (for a two year-old), while he listened to a story that could make the most wizened old widow blush to the tips of her ears. Thus began the education of Harry Potter by the one-time rogue and scoundrel that was Charlus Potter.

When Tippy returned, she carried a newspaper and several sacks of groceries that she had gotten from the local market. With a sizeable population of wizards, Godric's Hollow had several exclusively wizarding businesses. Though Tippy was not an infrequent visitor to the local markets, she was unremarked, in part because she had removed the Potter Crest from her tea cozy uniform and also because most wizards never bothered to learn the faces of house elves.

Charlus demanded to see the paper, but was frustrated by a lack of hands. They eventually solved the problem by propping his painting up on one of the dining room chairs while Harry and Tippy delighted themselves by turning, and sometimes tearing, the pages at his direction. Charlus perused the articles, often making remarks like, "Ah, the villain!" or "that diseased harridan! The nerve!" What could be deduced from these comments, was anybody's guess. Tippy and Harry were rather more engrossed in making funny faces at the moving pictures and occasionally poking them to try to get a response. Finally, at the bottom of the second page, Charlus read a story that immediately brought a stronger response.

"Whats this? " he asked, leaning forward so far as to appear ready to fall out of his frame. "Sirius Black sentenced to life in Azkaban for the betrayal and murder of the Potter family. " he quoted. "Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot says "It's a sad day for the wizarding world. The likes of the Potters do not come around very often. Though this conviction will bring little comfort to their friends and loved ones, I hope, at least, they will rest easier knowing that justice will come to those who commit such terrible crimes."

"What rubbish! Sirius Black a betrayer! Never! A scoundrel, yes. A rogue, certainly. I myself have been known to refer to him as a bastard son of syphilitic serpent, but he would never betray James and Lilly. Never!" He threw his hands up in disgust and started pacing back and forth within his frame, muttering to himself.

"What game is Dumbledore playing at? Not even a trial? Under what authority?"

Charlus was, in life, a contemporary of Dumbledore. He knew him as a shrewd politician and a formidable wizard. As Chief Warlock, it was easily within his authority to order a trial for Sirius Black. That there was a betrayer within the Order of the Phoenix, there was little doubt. That it could reside in the person of Sirius Black, however, strained credulity. He was practically an adopted son of the Potter House and a best friend to James and Lilly. Even if he served as secret keeper, only under the most severe torture could he be made to give up James and Lilly's location. A wizard could hardly be blamed for succumbing to that kind of abuse. In any event, the Death Eaters would surely kill him, not let him go to blow up a street full of Muggles.

The second question in Charlus's mind centered around Peter Pettigrew. If Sirius was trying to kill Pettigrew, another close friend, it was sure that he had a reason. Charlus was willing to wager that reason was at the heart of James and Lilly's death. Perhaps Peter was the secret keeper turned betrayer. Peter certainly fit the bill better than Black. No, there was definitely something strange afoot. Dumbledore was playing games with the law and Harry's godfather was certainly a captured pawn. The real question was, why?

Charlus returned to scanning the paper and found an article on page four detailing how the budget for the DMLE was being reduced in light of the recent drop in criminal activity following the disappearance of you-know-who and the trial and arrest of many of his followers. That bit of news caused the painting's eyes to open wide in surprise. If Voldemort had indeed disappeared, then he needed to know the how and why. Was it related to his nephew's death? Had James and Lilly managed to kill him or injure him enough to result in his disappearance? How was Sirius involved? The only good thing in this whole ridiculous mess, as far as Charlus could see, was that no mention was made of Harry Potter. Apparently, he was presumed dead. Lost in the same attack that took his mother and father. That was a good thing. It protected the boy from Voldemort and his deatheaters and from whatever games Dumbledore was playing.

The next question became, how do a house elf, a painting and a baby spring Sirius Black from the impregnable fortress known as Azkaban?


	4. Eating the Fruit of the Tree

Chapter 4; Eating the Fruit of the Tree

Life went on for the odd remains of the Potter Family. Harry continued to grow and learn, and over time suffered less and less over the loss of his parents. He even once referred to Tippy as "mummy", which nearly caused the house elf to collapse in a fit of combined ecstasy and grief. Tippy, for her part, dedicated herself to Harry's upbringing with single-minded intensity. Besides the normal housekeeping chores, she also helped in giving Harry lessons in reading and writing, often learning right alongside him. Charlus' painting often served as tutor, expounding on the basics of math and reading. If his lessons deviated from the norm for young wizards, no one was there to gainsay him and that suited Charlus just fine. The end result was that Harry and Tippy both grew in learning and both were well advanced above normal levels for toddlers or house elves, respectively.

The question of what to do about Sirius Black was put on indefinite hold. Not because it ceased to worry and vex the churlish painting, but because there was nothing they could do to remedy the situation. The painting had spent many sleepless nights pondering what they could do. He had yet to come up with a solution. The wards around Azkaban were formidable in the extreme. House elves were barred, outright, from the prison. They had no human allies and scant few resources. The meager supply of money that was left in the manor had been all but exausted. Things would have been dire indeed, if Tippy hadn't taken to liberating coins from unsuspecting muggles in the village. She was saved from any moral considerations because, after all, they were only muggles. Seeking Sirius' release, under the law was impossible without exposing that Harry was still alive. Until he knew who the beyrayer was, that was no consideration.

The only way Charlus could think to assist Sirius' escape was for Harry to act on his own. To do that, he would have to learn magic. That was how a barely four year old Harry found himself under the baleful eye of a painting, fidgeting over an empty cauldron in the middle of their makeshift sitting room.

"I thought children weren't to do any magic?" Harry asked.

Charlus frowned. "Underage wizards are forbidden from doing any wand-based magic until they turn eleven, at which point they get their wand. However, there are many different types of magic that cannot be detected by the Ministry of Magic. Potions, runes and many ritual-based magics are possible, even for thick-skulled miscreants like you."

"Why can't I use grandfather's wand? Tippy got it from upstairs. Couldn't I use it?" Harry asked.

"I've told you a thousand times, you ignorant little whelp, children your age cannot use wands. Even if our wards prevent magic from being detected, your magical core is far too unstable to do any significant magic!" Charlus huffed.

"But I did the _lumos_ spell just the other day!" Harry whined.

"Simple charms are easy." Charlus indignantly explained. "Complex magics are quite beyond your meager abilities, I assure you. Until your core stabilizes, you will just have to satisfy yourself with what I teach you."

This time it was Harry's turn to huff. "Fine! But I'm not thick-skulled. Tippy says I'll be a great wizard someday, just like Mum and Dad were."

"Tippy has all the brains of a flobberworm. What does she know?"

At this, a devlish smile appeared on Harry's face. "She told me she knows where some turpentine is!" he crowed. "She says it's great at removing paint and other tricksy stains!"

Charlus rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't dare. Who then would tell you tales of lusty adventurers and wild beasts?" he asked.

"Well," Harry considered, "will you tell me a story about Baldric the Bold?"

"Only if you complete your potion." Charlus replied.

"Right." Harry said, pointing to various jars of potions ingredients set out on a nearby table. "Which one is Boomslang skin?"

Harry, as it turned out, was far from a potions prodigy. His four year old temperament was unsuited to give brewing the proper care and attention. Nevertheless, under Tippy and the painting's watchful eyes, he gradually learned the beauty of the slowly simmering cauldron. After several months of practice and not a few explosions, Harry was finally able to complete a useable polyjuice potion. Neither he nor his erstwhile guardians were aware that he was the youngest person to ever brew this difficult potion. Harry was immensely gratified when upon ingesting some that had been infused with hairs Pippy had liberated from a brush found in the Manor, he morphed into an exact replica of Peter Pettigrew.

Charlus too, was virtually beside himself with glee. The boy had proved himself an adequate brewer and would only get better with time. Polyjuice was no easy brew, he knew, but it was extraordinarily useful. It would allow Harry to escape the confines of their basement home and gain experience in the greater world, without risking discovery. Obviously, he could not do so in the guise of Pettigrew, who was supposedly dead. Even if, as Charlus suspected, he really wasn't. But the hair from any muggle would do, and would allow him to travel unremarked. The hair from Pettigrew was far from useless, however. Pettigrew was careless to leave such a remnant at the house following one of his many overnight stays with the Potter family. He wouldn't understand the repercussions from such a innocent act until it was far too late. If Charlus was right in his suspicions, if Peter was really the secret keeper, then his doom was sealed. The first stage of the liberation of Sirius Black had begun.


	5. A Babe in the Woods

Chapter 5; a Babe in the Woods

Harry's fourth year was marked with a much greater degree of freedom and autonomy. Under the effects of polyjuice, he was able to accompany Tippy on her visits to the town. Needless to say, he was thrilled with the prospect. Being shut in their small quarters with little company, was not ideal for a young boy. Likewise, dedicating himself to intensive study had not helped his demeanor and had even resulted in Harry developing near-sightedness. Luckily, Tippy had produced an old pair of spectacles that used to belong to his father. Still, better vision was little reprieve from cabin fever. Even if Harry was better spokenthan a normal child, though with a decidedly more colorful vocabulary, he was still a child with a child's desire for interaction. He was able to assume the appearance of a young muggle tourist, and was even able to join in a few games of football with the village kids. He even learned a few valuable lessons in proper behavior, when he got roundly beaten up after referring to one of his playmates as a "plumped up whore."

This was not his only misstep in the outside world. Once on a visit to the greengrocer, he was collared by the owner after trying to walk out of the store with some candy, without paying for it. Harry didn't intend to steal, he had simply never been exposed to the concept of money or, indeed, private property. With much begging and cajoling, Tippy was able to get him released to her custody, with a promise to inform the Head of the House of his misbehavior. The grocer might not have been so lenient if he himself had not been guilty of a few youthful indiscretion or had he been aware that the head of the family was Harry himself. A few missteps aside, Harry learned a lot by being allowed outside the home and making a few casual acquaintances.

Harry was also allowed to occasionally hike in the woods on the Manor grounds. Many afternoons would find Harry and Tippy happily chasing each other through the trees, brandishing sticks and crying out such things as "avast ye scurvy dog!" and "hoist 'em up the mains'l!" The tutelage of Charlus Potter led to a great deal of colorful dialogue and no shortage of adventurer's tales to act out. Surprisingly, the elf seemed to delight in these adolescent fantasies, proving that blind subservience did not equate to a lack of imagination or intelligence. She was, however, very careful not to do any magic that was not covered by the wards. This was soon proven to be a wise decision.

While playing hide-and-seek with Harry on the grounds, Tippy startled the young wizard who was hiding under an overturned tree. Spying him in his hiding spot, Tippy slowly and carefully crawled along the great trunk, keeping it between her and her prey. When she had positioned herself just over his position, she grabbed the boll with her nimble fingers and swung herself over the side, to land in a crouch just in front of Harry. Startled by her sudden appearance and anxious to avoid capture, Harry twirled around and instantly disappeared with a sudden crack of apparation. Scared out of her mind, Tippy ran through the woods calling his name. Soon after he was found clinging to the topmost eaves of the manor house. Tippy popped over to his location and disapparated them both to solid ground.

After hugging Harry and assuring herself that he was unharmed, she got a fright herself when they heard the telltale pop of someone else apparating onto the property. She twirled on her feet and could just make out the red robes of an auror in the distance. Grabbing Harry by the scruff of the neck, she quickly dragged him inside the house, locked the door and popped them both to their basement apartment. After a blistering chastisement from both uncle Charlus and the scared elf, Harry apologized for his accidental magic. Normally such accidents were dismissed by wizarding parents, but not when the youth in question was living in a supposedly abandoned property belonging to long dead wizards. Soon after, it was decided that Harry should be taught to control his magic.

By the time Harry was nearing his sixth birthday, Charlus had already taught him the basics in potions and ancient runes as well as the beginnings of arithmancy. Under his direction, Harry had carefully inscribed runes, drawn in his own blood, to the foundation stones of the Manor. They chose the combination or _Algiz_ meaning secrecy and _Othala_, meaning ancestral home. When used together and cast with Harry's blood, they had the effect of shielding Harry from detection while in the Manor proper. While not as effective as a Fidelius charm, they were an added protection that would suffice unless the runes themselves were attacked and destroyed.

Charlus also developed a plan to begin teaching the basics of spellcasting. Because Harry's magical core would remain unstable until he neared the age of eleven, complex spells would remain beyond his ability. Charlus, after studying several tomes liberated from the Potter family library, had come up with a way to supposedly help in Harry's magical maturation. The first step was to improve Harry's mental focus. This involved having Harry cast and maintain the _lumos_ spell, while Charlus and Tippy tried to distract him. Harry had been able to cast that spell for years, but found it significantly harder with Charlus shouting insults and Tippy whacking him with a charmed pillow. At first, he could barely hold the spell for a minute before both he and the spell collapsed. After one trying afternoon, Harry's temper got the best of him and both he and Tippy disappeared in a cloud of feathers as the pillow exploded in a violent burst of accidental magic. Other times Harry would simply refuse to participate, preferring instead to engage in more childish pursuits. Eventually though, they were able to convince him to continue, mainly by bribing him with thoughts of all the things he could do when he was able to use his wand.

Charlus also remembered some techniques taught to him by his own father when he was trying to learn to fundamentals of occulmency. While never very accomplished in the skill, some of the techniques used were very helpful in leaning to clear your mind of external distractions. The techniques themselves were borrowed from ancient Buddhist teachings on meditation. Often in the afternoons, just before his nap, Charlus had Harry sitting cross legged on the sitting room floor with his eyes closed tight. He would then try to focus his thoughts on a single image, one that was free of any association within Harry's mind. Harry chose the image of a burning candle. Whenever stray thoughts would enter his head, Harry fed them into the flame. This proved to be an excellent technique and aided Harry greatly. It also had a pleasant added side effect, for both Tippy and Charlus, of helping Harry relax enough to take his nap without complaint.

After nearly a month of practice, Harry was able to hold the lumos spell for as long as he wished. In Charlus' judgement he had succeeded in sharpening his mental focus to the degree necessary to proceed with phase two of his plan; the ritual.

The library at Potter Manor was quite impressive. The nearly two-story room was lined in towering oak shelves burnished to deep golden brown with hundreds of years of accumulated polish. Tall, spindly ladders were attached to the shelves and could slide back and forth to peruse any of the thousands of books that lined the shelves. Many of the books were rare vellum manuscripts, hand-written by members of their line. Others were rare editions, grimoires and other treasures that would be the envy of any bibliophile. Together, the more than equaled the value of the Manor itself. Material objects could be conjured, but the knowledge contained in the library was quite priceless.

The Potters were, after all, one of the ancient houses. There were tomes on many arcane and ancient rites that predated modern times. Many such rituals, often proscribed under ministry edict, were considered dark. Many of them were looked upon as outdated by the modern wizard. One such, found under the innocuous title _Harvest and Plenty_, described the perfect answer to Harry's dillemma. The ritual, known as Rite of Deepening, used a combination of a runic circle, the caster's will, and a willing blood sacrifice. Under a full Harvest moon, the caster would inscribe the runes of strength, stability, and mature growth using their blood and the blood of a unicorn, willingly given. The book further described how the ancient druids use to form a greater circle of seven casters surrounding the central circle. These druids would offer protection during the rite, because the caster would be very vulnerable during the process and any external disruptions could spoil the casting, sometimes with disastrous results. It seems, sometime in the ancient past, a lone druid had attempted the rite without the protection of a greater circle. During the casting, a raven landed within the inner circle, drawn by the scent of blood. The raven's intent, that of intense hunger, influenced the casting. When the rite was ended, the druid survived but forever after hungered after unicorn blood. He was killed some few years later, skewered at the end of a unicorn's horn.

If successfully used by a focused caster with strong enough intent, the effect could be many fold. If power was the object, an increase in power could be gained. Increased lifespan, fertility, mental acuity, purity of heart; all could be achieved, provided they were a natural characteristic of the sacrifice. Dark intent or malicious intentions were impossible using the Rite of Deepening, because those characteristics were nowhere to be found in the blood of a noble unicorn. The problem with performing the ritual was first, finding a willing unicorn to donate the blood for the ritual, and focusing the mind with sufficient intent on the quality sought. With every additional quality sought, the chances of failure increased dramatically. Stability of a magical core was a difficult concept to visualize. In order to overcome this hurdle, Charlus taught Harry the detection spell used by mediwizards to gauge damage to a wizard's core. It was by far the most difficult and exausting spell Harry had ever attempted to master. In the end, it took nearly six months to accomplish.

Eventually Harry was able to sense his own core and take notice of the ocillations and changes that it underwent. To Harry's senses, it resembled nothing more than the merry-go-round that he had seen in the village playground, except that it glowed in a tight blue ball below his breastbone. Certainly, it seemed to spin erratically, occasionally pulsing with an eerie red light. Of course, Harry had nothing to compare it to, so he had no idea what an adult core should look like. When he tried the charm on Tippy, her entire body lit up in a diffuse yellow light, much like her entire body was lit with candlelight. Harry reckoned that the difference was that house elves' magic existed within their entire bodies, rather than just within a core. To Harry, it seemed one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. Much different than the spinning, pulsing maelstrom at his own core. To him it made the loving, caring elf who had been nurse and mother to him, seem all the more beautiful.

Charlus had determined that the most auspicious time to perform the ritual would be October 7th. They both believed that Harry was ready, but still had to locate a willing unicorn. Supposedly, one could buy unicorn blood that was given willingly, but the risks were too great if it turned out to gotten by more unsavory methods. Indeed, unicorn blood was one of the world's most magical substances and could save a person, even on the brink of death, but if taken forcefully would exact a price too horrible to consider. However, the only place in England that they were sure to find a unicorn was in the Forbidden Forest on the very grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the risks of discovery, they knew that was where they would have to go.

_October 6th, 1987_

Harry and Tippy entered the forbidden forest from Hogsmeade. The trip had been easier than Harry had imagined. Tippy, it seemed, had travelled to Hogsmeade many times before, bringing Harry's father things he had left behind in his haste to make the Hogwarts Express. Harry grabbed onto her arm and in a dizzying flash of color, he was standing in an alley on the side of a jovial looking pub called the Three Broomsticks. The laughter that boomed out of the half open doorway made Harry long to peek inside, but Tippy dragged him along before he could so much as get a glimpse. If anyone thought it odd to see a middle-aged man being dragged along by a diminuative house elf, they kept their opinions to themselves or else Harry was gone before he could hear them. From what he could see, Hogsmeade was a sleepy little village, not much different than Godric's Hollow, except that the buildings were a little more quaint and that was a noticeable absence of automobiles. Harry did have an odd feeling of being watched as they passed the shack on the edge of town, but dismissed it as a case of nerves.

They passed quickly to the outskirts of town and Harry was a little overwhelmed by his first sight of the Forbidden Forest. The trees towered over him and soon disappeared in the dark shadows that loomed just a few feet past the treeline. Harry carried a pack on his back that was expanded on the inside, so that he could carry all the supplies they would need. They had rolled up Charlus' painting and carried that with them, as well. Charlus had grumbled throughout the entire process but had agreed that it was necessary that he be there for advice and counsel, if needed. Both he and Harry had drilled endlessly on the steps necessary to invoke the ritual and practiced drawing the runes until Harry's cramped fingers could write no more and he could draw the runes in his sleep. Where they obviously didn't have seven druids to form a greater circle, they had agreed that Tippy could provide Harry with the protection he needed, and had included some of the ward stones Harry had made, identical to the ones used at the Manor.

Harry and Tippy entered the forest walking at a leisurely pace, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings. They walked for over an hour over uneven, rocky ground without incident, except that Harry tripped over the gnarled root of an ancient elm and twisted his ankle. As they were nearing midday, the elf, who had taken the lead, held up her hand for Harry to stop. He was about to ask her what was the matter when he noticed that they had happened on a little glade. On the edge of the glade there stood a magnificent white unicorn and a small golden colored foal, grazing on the sparse grass. The mare stomped on the ground with her hoof and snorted loudly in the brisk autumn air. Harry was rapt. He had never in his short life seen anything that compared to the beauty of those majestic creatures. The foal was a vision of innocence and purity and the silver horned mare was truly regal in her bearing. Their lustrous coats sparkled in the noonday sun and their eyes were like the purest silver.

It was then that Harry noticed that the unicorn was looking directly at them in a manner that was far from friendly! Just as they had practiced, Harry slowly reached into his pack and withdrew a bundle of winter blossoms that he had picked up from the apothecary in the village. With careful, measured steps and a bowed head, Harry walked into the glade. Harry knew better than to make eye contact with an adult unicorn. Unicorns were proud animals and would brook no challenge to the authority. Harry also knew, without being told, that this one had the added protectiveness of a mother caring for her foal. Harry could not remember his mother, but he knew from stories told by Tippy and Charlus, that she had been fiercely protective of Harry as a baby. He couldn't help but be a little envious of the little foal, but he was also happy that she had a mother that loved and protected her.

As Harry neared the center of the clearing, he could tell that the mare was growing increasingly frustrated. Her stamping and huffing grew in volume and frequency until it sounded as though she were practically dancing in agitation. Harry decided, in a moment of self-preservation, that he had travelled far enough. Slowly he lowered himself to his knees, kneeling in the short brown grass. He kept his eyes lowered and raised the bouquet of flowers above his head, as if in supplication. There he waited for long, interminable moments for the mare to either accept him or attack. There was no thought in his head of self-defense. He knew that the unicorn would make short work of him if she so desired. There was no thought of escape. Few creatures were as fleet as an adult unicorn. His only thought was his hope for her judgment and acceptance.

After what seemed like forever, the sounds coming from the mare quieted, but still the waiting stretched on. Harry's ankle was sore, his arms were burning with fatigue and one of his knees had started to hurt where it rested on a rock hidden beneath the soil and grass. Still he waited silently. At long last, Harry felt a tug on the flowers he was still holding above his head. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry with relief. Even so, he almost jumped out of his skin when he felt the touch of the creatures horn on the top of his head. Slowly, Harry raised his head and found himself looking eye to eye with the mother unicorn. She gently bobbed her head, signifying that Harry could safely touch her.

On creaky legs, Harry stood and reached out his hand. Gently, he touched her beautiful mane and ran his hand down her muscled foreleg. The unicorn seemed to enjoy the attention and fairly radiated calm repose. It was so opposed to her earlier actions that Harry was truly awed by her acceptance. Behind her he could see the little golden foal that was shyly hiding behind her mother's legs. When the foal looked at Harry, he felt a great kinship with the little thing. Slowly he stepped around the mare and once again lowered himself to his knees and bowed his head. Before he knew it, he felt a gentle bump on the top of his head and looked up to find the foal bobbing her head up and down for all she was worth. So taken with humor at the sight, Harry couldn't help but burst out in laughter. The mare too seemed to find it funny, because she snorted and shook her head with a definite twinkle in her eye as she watched the young foal's antics.

Harry stood up and patted the foal's neck and scratched her behind her ears, which she seemed to enjoy immensely. When his laughter died down, Harry was so overcome with emotion at finding acceptance with the protective mare and her foal that he could not help but bury his head in the soft hair of the unicorn's mane and weep tears of relief and joy. He didn't notice, but the mare was also crying pearly blue tears which fell like rain on the parched grass at his feet.

When his tears had dried, Harry spoke to the mare. Hesitantly at first, but with growing confidence, he told her what they were trying to accomplish. Some might think it weird to expect an animal to understand his words, but Harry had no doubt she could. Her eyes radiated a kind of fierce intelligence that left no mistake. He told her of his parent's death and his years of hiding and exile. He told them of his love for Tippy and for his Uncle's painting. He told them of his need to learn to control his magic so he could help his godfather escape his prison. Finally, he told them of the ritual and how it required both his blood and the blood of a unicorn.

By the time he had finished, he was quite exhausted, both emotionally and physically. In the silence that followed, the mare continued to scrutinize him with calm regard. Then, she suddenly bent her neck and sliced open her flank with the tip of her horn. So complete was Harry's shock and amazement that for a long moment he stood still, his mouth open and his eyes wide in disbelief. It was only as he heard her whinny that he noticed the copious amounts of bluish-silver blood running from the wound.

Quickly, Harry grabbed his bag and pulled out the empty vial. Placing it near the gash, Harry filled the vial up with the precious fluid and replaced the cork. Stepping back, he watched as the unicorn once again bent her neck and touched her horn to the wound. This time, Harry saw a flash of gentle light and when the mare straightened her neck again, Harry saw that the wound had been completely healed. Harry carefully placed the vial back into his pack and when he straightened back up he was shocked to see that he was completely alone in the clearing. Just that quick, the unicorns were gone.


	6. A Night to Remember

Chapter 6; A Night to Remember

Harry and Tippy took a rest in the shade of an oak just outside of the glade where Harry had met the unicorns. After consulting with Charlus, they had all decided that it was an ideal place to perform the ritual. The painting was currently unrolled and laying flat on the ground at the base of the tree. Charlus too, was amazed at Harry's story, but pretended to have known it would happen that way, all along. As the sun got lower and lower in the sky, Harry began his preparations for the casting. First he placed the warding runestones at intervals around the glade. He then drove a stake into the middle of the clearing and attached a 3 ½ foot string to the stake. That done, he walked a circle, driving a stake every two feet until he had completed the circle. Then he had Tippy banish the grass in the circle until he was left with bare, flat earth. At each point he had staked, he placed the bare stones until they completed the inner circle that was exactly seven feet in diameter. Next, he took the vial of unicorn blood out of his pack and carefully inscribed on each stone the Runes of Deepening. When that was completed, he took out a vial of his own blood that he had drawn the day before and walked the circle of stones, drawing a line in his own blood that connected each of the stones. When, at long last, he finished his preparations, Harry sat in the middle of his circle and meditated. After considerable effort, he was able to find the center of calm that he needed to sharpen his focus.

Outside the circle, Tippy prowled restlessly, alert and prepared for the kind of danger only she could imagine. Somewhere in the night could be heard the chirping of insects and the occasional hoot of an owl. Harry, for his part, was mindless of all the comings and goings around him. His mind was focused on a flame, feeding to it all of his doubt and fatigue, leaving him calm and collected. Soon, the sun set over the forest canopy and not long after the harvest moon rose, swollen and orange in the night sky. The time had come to begin the ritual.

"It's time my boy!" Charlus called out from the edge of the glade.

Hearing this, Harry took the last of the unicorn blood and mixing it with his own, drew the Deepening Rune on his forehead, the deep crimson of his own mixing with the iridescent unicorn blood. Under the orange light of the full moon, his face took on an mystical cast.

"Rad, Peorth, Beorc, Daeg, Ing!" Harry incanted. "The Deepening has begun!"

With that, Harry focused with all his might on picturing in his mind a vision of his core, growing stable as it expanded. He pictured its oscillations slowing and evening out, the pulsating red changing into a steady blue so bright that it almost appeared white. The insects around the glade seemed to sense the importance of these happenings as they gradually quieted. The peace of the clearing was shattered shortly thereafter when somewhere in the near distance came the howl of an angry wolf.

Tippy heard the howl and immediately recognized it for what it was, the cry of a werewolf. Charlus, knowing that it was too late to interrupt the ceremony, called out to her, "Tippy! Protect the boy!"

Protecting Harry Potter was not something Tippy needed to be told to do. The defiant house elf crouched down, her arms extended in front of her like some heroine from a martial arts movie. If the situation weren't so deadly serious, it would have been amusing to anyone watching. As it was, the painting of Charlus Potter sat forward apprehensively in his frame while Harry continued on blissfully unaware, lost in his focus. For several long moments, the silence stretched on until Tippy was sure that the werewolf had passed on or had else been deterred by the wardstones surrounding the glade. Suddenly, a great crash was heard on the edge of the clearing and a massive, slavering werewolf bounded into the clearing.

The werewolf was not large by the measure of its kind, but was half again as large as a regular wolf. Its massive jaws held a gleaming row or razor sharp teeth and its hind legs rippled with corded muscle. As it cleared the brush, it shook its shaggy head, seemingly befuddled by the wards. But werewolves were notoriously resistant to defensive magic and this one was no exception. With another shake of its head, the werewolf finally came to its senses and looked straight at Harry. With a maddened howl it charged.

Tippy knew she was outmatched. She was not a fighter, but she was determined to protect her Master at all costs. As the werewolf approached, she snapped her fingers, putting all the force she could into a banisher aimed right at the werewolf's head. Instantly, the wolf went flying into the night, landing nearly twenty feet away and rolling to a stop. No sooner than it had its feet under it, however, it was charging again. This time, it aimed itself at Tippy, aware in its bestial way, that she posed the greater threat. When the house elf sent another banisher, it leaped high, right over it and continued in its charge. Tippy managed to hit it once more, but the werewolf was ready for it. With the innate magical resistance of its kind, it managed to lower its head and dig its claws into the rocky soil. Even so, the desperate house elf managed to push it back several feet. However, as soon as the spell lifted, the werewolf darted back and forth, making itself as difficult a target as possible.

In a little over five seconds, it managed to halve the distance, eating up ground at a ferocious pace. Tippy was growing more frantic with every passing second. With both hands upraised, she was leveling curses as fast as she could, with little to no effect. Grass, dirt and rocks were being blasted into the sky by her strikes as the werewolf closed the distance to a bare handful of yards. With a victorious howl it leaped through the air, directly for Tippy, but before it could sink it's teeth into her grey-green throat, Tippy popped away, appearing suddenly fifteen yards upwind of the ravenous beast. The werewolf snarled and darted its head back and forth, looking for his escaped prey. It was then that it again spotted Harry, sitting still within his circle, mindless of the ferocious battle waging in his midst. For a few seconds the werewolf continued to search the area, obviously weighing the fat morsel that Harry represented against the desire to crush the pesky elf. Finally, its decision made, the werewolf wheeled around and began running towards Harry's location. It had cleared no more than a half dozen feet when Tippy appeared with a pop sitting astride the beasts heaving back. With one hand wrapped firmly in the coarse hairs of its ruff, Tippy snapped her finger and a large mallet appeared in her other hand. The werewolf, hardly aware of Tippy's small weight on its back, did take notice when a large conjured mallet landed squarely between its eyes. Whether the shock of the impact or the very presence of the wiry elf and its unlikely weapon were the cause is open for debate, but the effect was obvious. With a yelp, the werewolf's head dug into the dirt as it skidded to a rolling stop, going ass over teakettle less than a stone's throw away from Harry's position.

The werewolf, however, was far from out of the fight. Little Tippy fared far worse. Unable to extricate herself from the thrashing wolf, her legs were crushed beneath its much greater weight. Worse still, she had lost the mallet in her tumble. Dazed, she never saw the great mass of fur and hate until it had her in its poisonous jaws. With a great shake of its head, it tossed her broken and bleeding body over its head. Tippy landed hard on one of the runestones, her life's blood mingling with the unicorn blood that inscibed it. Her feeble cries were meek indeed compared the victorious howl that came from the rampaging beast. Just as it was groggily moving in to finish its kill, another and far more hopeful sound emerged; the thundering of hooves and the enraged whinny of a vengeful unicorn!

Most people viewed unicorns as the very embodiment of purity and peace. Indeed, they were peaceful creatures by nature and their purity was unquestioned. From their snow white coats to the powerful magic, they radiated a goodness that affected everyone that came in contact with them. But such purity was a double-edged sword, for purer still was the wrath and protectiveness of one provoked. Their singular nature stood in marked contrast to the duality and wickedness represented by the werewolves.

As the unicorn galloped into the clearing, the werewolf gave a challenging roar and moved immediately to face the new threat. With angry snarls they charged, each gaining momentum with every step. Sparks flew from the unicorns hooves as it lowered its head to meet its foe. As they neared, the werewolf darted wide, trying to encircle the unicorn and avoid the dangerous horn. The unicorn was faster however and moved quickly to intercept. Seeing that it was outmaneuvered, the werewolf darted to the left, but was again too slow for the agile unicorn who neatly sidestepped without pausing in its charge. Frustrated, the wolf leaped as it drew near, hoping to clear the horn, but just as it seemed it might succeed, the unicorn raised her head and skewered the werewolf through its abdomen as it passed overhead.

So great was their impact that the werewolf slammed into her head, fully impaled on her horn. The unicorn's head was forced back by the collision, even while she tried to bear the sudden weight. Her head was forced backward and down at a painful angle and she stumbled, her front hooves driven to the ground. She tumbled to a rolling stop, still bearing the werewolf on her horn. The unicorn mightily strove to shake her head to dislodge the grievously wounded wolf, but to no avail. The werewolf was mewling piteously and also trying to free itself. In desperation, it dug in with its claws, pushing and slicing at the unicorns face and chest. Long, ragged slashes appeared on the unicorns flesh, glowing softly blue in the moonlight. The unicorn continued to shake its head, tearing even wider the wound in the werewolf's gut. Finally, the wound opened up enough that she was able to extricate herself, then collapsed, weakened and weary. Before unconsciousness claimed her, she couldn't help but notice that the stone that lay near her bleeding head suddenly flared with a brilliant silvery blue light.

Harry Potter, an exhausted six year old wizard, sat in the center of his ritual circle, completely unaware of his surroundings. His thoughts, if they could be called that, were solely focused on his core, which he pictured as a bright blue-white globe on a background of absolute black. He was unaware of the passage of time or even the cares of his body. The Deepening Ritual required that level of focus. Stray thoughts or external influences could ruin its effect, often with disastrous results. As focused as he was, he was unable to avoid noticing when the image in his mind's eye was engulfed in a seeming explosion of light. His calm focus was suddenly swamped with new images and feelings so startlingly different that he was instantly overwhelmed by their intensity. First, a feeling of intense love and protectiveness that wrapped around him like a warm blanket. Next came a feeling of savage pride and territoriality.

If no other occurrence had interrupted his aborted ritual, things might have ended very differently for young Harry. However, fast on the heels of that fierce urge came one even more shocking in its intensity. A pure and white-hot sense of purity and righteous anger filled him, near to bursting. Startled out of his stupor, Harry opened his eyes. Blinking them rapidly to clear the afterimages from his vision, Harry grabbed his glasses from the pocket of his robes and placed them on his head.

At first he thought that the ritual had ended and that Tippy, in her enthusiastic way, had awakened him. He was fully prepared for her exuberant hugs, but was shocked when the first sight that greeted his blurry eyes was her broken and bleeding body lying on the edge of his circle.

"Tippy!" he cried, trying to get up on legs that had fallen asleep. Unable to stand, Harry crawled over to her, dragging his useless legs behind him.

"Tippy! What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, his voice cracking with emotion.

Rolling her over on her back, Harry looked into her dead, glassy eyes. Harry was heartbroken with grief. The elf represented the world to Harry; mother, sister and friend. He buried his head in her blood covered body, crying tears onto her hair and face. He was aroused from his grief, however, when he heard a horrible, wounded cry.

"Tippy? What…?" He looked into the Tippy's face and realized the cry couldn't have come from her. Looking frantically around, Harry saw another sight that shocked him to his core. On the other side of his circle lay the prone and obviously wounded bodies of the unicorn mare he had met just yesterday in this very glade and some sort of large, mean looking canine creature. Both animals were severely wounded, though to his eyes, the unicorn's injuries seemed more obvious as the irridescent blue blood stood out starkly against her white coat.

Again, Harry was overtaken with grief and horror. Never, in his young life had anything prepared him for this shocking tableau. Tippy and Charlus had told him, of course, what had happened to his parents. But he was just a baby then. He couldn't remember a bit of it. The obvious carnage in front of him was almost too much for his sheltered eyes. Again overtaken with sobs, he clutched at the unicorn. No sooner had he laid hands upon her than he was again assaulted by intense, foreign emotions. Feelings of love, protectiveness and fierce territoriality rose in him like an unstoppable tide. So desperate was he to help the wounded animal that his mind instinctually grasped at a recent memory; a memory of the unicorn touching her horn to her flank and healing her injury. In his memory, he could almost feel the white-hot magic of her horn as it radiated out into the wound. He sensed it like he could still sense his own magical core.

Without conscious thought, he pictured his own core radiating that same bright white light. With shaking hands, Harry reached out and touched the wounds on the unicorn's chest. Instantly, a blinding light flowed out from his hands and engulfed the head and chest of the injured animal. In the blink of an eye, the wounds healed as though they never existed. As the glow faded, the mare raised her head and prodded Harry with her nose. Looking up through tear-stained eyes, Harry saw her raised head and shouted with glee.

"What happened? Are you alright? What can I do? Does it hurt? Oh, thank Merlin! I can't believe…I thought…." He yelled, eventually dropping off in hysterical sobs as he clutched at her neck. The unicorn whinnied and laid her head across his shoulders, waiting patiently for his sobs to lessen. After a time, she again prodded him gently with her nose. When he looked at her, she nodded her head toward the massive canine. When Harry looked, he could tell that the animal was still alive, its thick chest rising and falling as it drew in sharp, shuddering breaths. Harry looked again at the unicorn.

"Can you…you know….heal him?" He asked.

The unicorn slowly stood and walked over to the dying werewolf. Lowering her head, she touched her softly glowing horn to the wound and a bright blue glow emanated from her horn. The wolf howled and tried to struggle, but was too weak and weary to fight the strong magic. The light surrounded the wound, which slowly began to close. The seconds drew out into a minute and then two, before slowly fading away. When it had disappeared, Harry scrutinized the wound. Though it had closed somewhat, it still looked nasty and was still bleeding heavily. The wolf had quieted but continued to whimper piteously. Again the unicorn looked askance at Harry.

"How come it didn't heal?" he asked. "Can't you heal him?"

The unicorn shook her head, a somehow sad look in her eye.

"What should I do?" Harry asked.

The unicorn walked over behind Harry and nudged him toward the werewolf. Harry, unsure what to do, followed her lead. Mindless of the danger, he leaned over the werewolf. As he looked down on its bleeding form, he couldn't help but think of Tippy lying broken and bleeding on the ground, crying out for Harry to help her. Just like that a floodgate opened within Harry as he was once again carried away on a tide of emotions. While the unicorn looked on, Harry embraced the tide, a white glow surrounded his hands as he laid them on the beast and the deep emerald green of his eyes changed into a a bright, shining silver. This time, Harry was better able to retain his perception, and he watched, almost as an outsider, as this unusual power surged from his hands and into the deep arterial wound in the beasts midsection. Almost immediately, the werewolf began to thrash and stir, but Harry pressed firmly down, keeping it pinned. This time the glow didn't stop with the visible wound, but continued to grow until it surrounded the beast.

As its thrashing grew worse and worse, so too did the torrent in Harry's mind. A snarling, angry presence surged in his mind, threatening to carry Harry away in its brutality. His hands tightened on the werewolf with a savage strength. Almost as soon as it began, however, the other feelings grew within Harry. Brutality was met with unconditional love and his territorial urges were beaten back with the purity of sacrifice and the unwavering desire to protect. For long moments, the battle waged within Harry, waxing and waning in desperate struggle. All the while, the glow around the werewolf grew in intensity, until it burst with vibrant light. When it subsided, Harry swooned, overcome with a sudden feeling of utter exhaustion. As he kneeled there on the verge of unconsciousness, he looked down and was surprised to see, instead of a snarling beast, a naked, middle-aged man with sandy brown hair and brown, liquid eyes. The naked man was similarly haggard and shocked as he looked up at Harry.

"James?" he said, but his question fell on deaf ears. Harry Potter collapsed on the ground, dead to the world.


	7. Fear and Loathing

Chapter 7; Fear and Loathing

Remus Lupin was a good man. He was intelligent, caring and loyal, almost to a fault. Ever since he was attacked and turned into a werewolf as a young boy, his greatest fear was that he would get loose and attack some innocent soul. His fear led him to lead a very private and secluded life. He had never even had a friend until met a young James Potter on the Hogwarts express. During the full moon, he took great care to seclude himself far from human habitation. That was why he came to shrieking shack for his transformations. It was the ultimate in irony that the one night that he was able to escape his confinement, he ran immediately into the forbidden forest, where no human was likely to be and almost fulfilled his worst fears on the son of his first childhood friend.

When he woke up under the light of a full moon, changed back into his human form, he was shocked and confused. Like usual, he had only fuzzy memories of his actions. It was also the first time since he was a boy, that he was able to look on the full moon with human eyes. He was even more shocked to realize he was looking up at the spitting image of a young James Potter. When Harry collapsed, Remus checked him over for injuries. Finding none, he took stock of his surroundings.

His first sight of the unicorn standing a few feet away, nearly caused him a heart attack. Never before could he remember being so close to one, and it filled him with awe and fear. Werewolves, even in their human state, could certainly not approach a unicorn. The animals senses were far too sensitive to miss the darkness inherent in all werewolves. Even if that were not the case, Remus was was a grown man and far from a virgin. Eyeing the creature warily, he noticed the blood that marked its coat and was aghast. Obviously he had attacked the unicorn, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why he was still alive. Not only alive, but untransformed. Looking around himself, he noticed the ritual circle.

He was not overly familiar with ritual based magic, but he could decipher the runes he saw. Nothing he saw would account for his state or the presence of a unicorn. It was when he was walking the circumference of the circle that he found the body of the dead house elf. Knowing he was responsible for its death, Remus was filled with grief. Rationally, he knew he was not responsible, but that was cold comfort. It was as he was walking back toward's Harry that he heard a muffled voice coming from the edge of the clearing.

Upon investigation, he soon found a backpack on the ground. At first he wondered if the backpack contained a communication mirror, like the ones Sirius and James used to use, but then he noticed that the sound was coming from a tree to his left. It wasn't until he got closer that he noticed the painting that was lying rolled up at the base of a tree. Certainly it was a surprise to see a painting lying out in the middle of the forbidden forest, but the greatest surprise was when he turned the painting over and recognized it's occupant.

"It's about bleedin' time you ignorant whelp! I've been eatin' dirt for almost an hour!" Charlus yelled. "What the hell happened? The last thing I saw…" Whatever he was going to say, however was lost as he caught sight of his rescuer. "Remus? Remus Lupin?"

Remus was equally astounded. He'd had frequent conversations with Charlus' portrait while visiting Potter Manor. Indeed, James' uncle Charlus had been a great inspiration to the marauder's, both in the flesh before he died, and as a portrait. He, James, Sirius and Peter used to spend many hours listening to Charlus' ribald tales and keeping him informed of their exploits. He would even count him as a friend, insofar as you could be friends with an animate object. So, he was quite shocked at the next words the painting said.

"That was you! You bastard, what did you do to Harry!" Charlus screamed.

"Harry? What are you saying? Harry's dead." Remus replied, dumbfounded.

"Dead." Charlus said in a quiet, almost calm voice. "And the elf? What happened to the elf?"

Remus looked guiltily down at his feet. "I killed her. I didn't mean to."

"I see." Charlus continued. "Well, there's only one thing for it. Lupin, fetch me that backpack, please."

Not knowing what else to do, Remus grabbed up the backpack. "I've got it." He said.

"Good, now go into it and pull out that silver knife."

Remus stopped with his arm halfway in the bag. "Silver, you say? You know I can't touch silver." He said.

"I said get the knife!" Charlus roared suddenly. "And when you have it in your hand. I want you to take that knife and jam it up to the hilt in your scurvy, diseased flesh. I want you to cut until you reach your rotten, conniving, back-stabbing heart and not stop until you've cut it out. Just like you cut out the heart out of James and Lilly and every last member of a noble and once proud family. Once you've finished, I want you to lay down and die. Make sure you die on your back, mind you, so that every creature that walks by your corpse can piss in your sorry excuse for a face!"

Remus just stood there, his arm in the bag, with a dumbstruck look on his face. "What are you going on about?" he asked. "You know I'd never.."

"Don't tell me you couldn't control yourself, you little worm! After all James and Lilly did for you, this is how you repay them? By killing their only son?"

"But, I never…" Remus replied.

"I hope your proud of yourself!" Charlus interrupted. "You only managed to accomplish what Voldemort himself couldn't do!"

Remus literally couldn't speak. He was overcome with feelings of astonishment, guilt and confusion. However, as Charlus' words finally began to sink in, he suddenly understood.

"Am I to understand that the boy over there is Harry Potter?" he asked. "Harry James Potter?"

"Yes, you bastard! You killed James' son!"

"He's not dead?"

"Of course he's…wait…..what?" Charlus said.

"Harry Potter is not dead. Merlin's beard! Harry Potter is alive!"

So saying, Remus Lupin sprinted back towards Harry, running for all he was worth. Skidding to a stop at his side, Remus reached over and ran his hands slowly and carefully down his face and body, assuring himself that this was indeed Harry Potter and that he was alive. So overcome with glee was he, that he jumped to his feet and started dancing a jig in the middle of the clearing, completely unmindful of the unicorn standing sentinel a few yards away.

Later, when his joy had subsided to a manageable level, Remus retrieved Charlus' painting and moved it and Harry's things into the clearing. He also carried Harry over and placed him in a more comfortable position. After everyone was settled, he and Charlus talked well into the night. Charlus informed him of the circumstances that brought Harry into his care and gave him the highlights of Harry's life. He explained the purpose of the ritual and his conviction of Sirius' innocence and his suspicions about Pettigrew, as well as their plans to get Sirius out of Azkaban.

Remus was amazed at the events, especially surrounding Harry's survival and the supposed banishment of Voldemort. As removed as he was from civilized society, Remus knew that whatever happened that night, Voldemort had not been seen or heard from again. In his infrequent conversations with Dumbledore, Remus had learned of the prophecy and knew that Albus was convinced that some power within Harry had defeated the dark lord. However, everyone assumed that Harry was killed in the process.

The conversation with Charlus didn't explain, for the painting didn't know, what happened with Voldemort, but it did resolve many questions that had lingered in the back of Remus' mind.

He had always been uneasy with the thought of Sirius as a betrayer. Charlus' arguments had renewed those doubts. The evidence, however scarce it was, certainly did point to Sirius. Dumbledore himself had confirmed that Sirius was the secret keeper. Remus wasn't sure about Charlus' belief that Dumbledore was playing some deeper game, but he did concede that Sirius' was sentenced without trial and on circumstancial evidence, at best. Together, they resolved to work to uncover some of these mysteries and Remus decided that he would keep their secret. In fact, Remus was so overjoyed at Harry's reappearance, that he decided then and there that he would do anything in his power to care for and protect James and Lilly's son, be it from Voldemort, Dumbledore or all the legions of Hell.

When their discussions had ended, Remus built a fire and set himself to watch over the sleeping Harry. Despite his transformation and the subsequent fights, he was filled with energy and purpose. That in itself was noteworthy, as normally he was lethargic and sick following a transformation. Whatever power was responsible for his reprieve, Remus wasn't going to question it. Digging into Harry's pack, he pulled out Harry's wand and conjured up some blankets for Harry and some clothes for himself. Thus armed and fortified, he sat at Harry's feet and watched over his sleeping form.

When Harry started to awake, Remus was at his side in a moment. His joints were stiff and sore from sitting up all night, but all that was forgotten in his concern for Harry. He watched as Harry tried to open his eyes, and grew concerned when he saw Harry wince and shut them again a few seconds later.

Harry awoke to the sounds of a crackling fire and a string of curse words that could only come from uncle Charlus. Cracking open his eyes, he was immediately sorry because his vision swirled with a riot of colors that made no sense to his befuddled brain. Blinking rapidly did little to alleviate the problem, so he let out a groan and closed them again. Someone must have heard him, however, because soon he felt a hand on his brow.

"Harry, are you all right?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

"Who's there?" he responded. "Where am I?

"Where we are is easy to answer. We're in the forbidden forest. As to who I am, that is a little more complicated. My name is Remus Lupin. I'm an old family friend."

Suddenly a storm of questions occurred to Harry, but he bit his tongue and tried to remember everything that had happened the previous night. His memories came to him in surreal flashes. He remembered preparing for the ritual and then brief images came to him of Tippy lying in a pool of blood and then something about a wounded unicorn. Thoughts of Tippy caused him to bolt upright.

"Tippy! Is she allright? What happened?"

As suddenly as it came, the hand on his brow disappeared and he heard a forlorn sigh. "I'm sorry, Harry. More sorry than you can ever know. Tippy's gone."

"Gone? You mean…?"

"She died of her injuries. I'm sorry."

Harry was overwhelmed with a sudden sense of grief unlike anything he had ever experienced before. But, so filled with remorse was the voice that spoke to him that he opened his eyes to get a look at the unknown person. Again, his vision was filled with bright, swirling images. Harry wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to focus on the person squatting at his side. Nothing he could see was recognizable, but he could make out a vaguely man sized shape at his side. At its center glowed a dark red ball, with black swirls that flashed in and out of view. The image niggled at the back of Harry's mind until he realized that it resembled his glimpses at his own magical core. The colors were different but he could still recognize the glowing shape as something similar.

Harry shut his eyes and tried to picture the flame in his mind. It was difficult for him as it kept being replaced with the image of Tippy's broken and battered body. Finally, he succeeded in holding it in his mind and managed to feed some of his grief into the burning flame. When he had calmed down a little, he opened his eyes.

Immediately he noticed a difference in his vision. The swirling colors from before were muted. They were still there, but it was as if they lay just under the surface.

"What happened to her? How did she…d..d..die?" he asked.

Again he heard the mournful sigh. "I'm afraid she was killed by a werewolf. If it is any comfort, I think the end was quick. She was a very brave elf."

Harry couldn't believe that Tippy had sacrificed herself for him. Oh, he knew that she would gladly do so, but he still couldn't believe it had come to pass. What made it even worse was he didn't even know she was in danger. During the ritual, he was so wrapped up in his own focus, he had let her be attacked and killed. The more Harry thought about it, the guiltier he felt. He should have done something to help her. He knew he didn't know enough magic to put up much of a fight; nothing like what Tippy was capable of, but he could have gotten himself out of harm's way. He could have climbed a tree, or something. If Tippy hadn't had to worry about him, she could have easily escaped. Instead, she had been mauled by some mangy flea-bitten mongrel. Tippy, who'd never done anything to harm anyone, who had taken care of Harry when no one else would, didn't deserve that fate.

Harry looked around him and saw Charlus' painting resting against a tree and his knapsack not far away. A small campfire was smoldering nearby and there was a suspicious lump hidden by a somber, black tarp, just on the edge of the clearing.

Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he turned and faced the man once more. The man was drawn and pale. He had sunken features and looked to be on his last legs. The main thing Harry noticed, however, was his forlorn and somber expression. Harry had little experience with grief. He knew that his mother and father had been killed when he was a baby, but he couldn't really remember it. It was just a fact that he had learned. It had no real weight. Even so, he could recognize that the man was suffering, almost as though he had lost a friend himself.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" The man asked.

"Yeah." Harry answered. "It's just all….you know. I can't believe it!" As Harry said this last he pounded his fists against his legs.

"I know, Harry. Believe me, I know." The man replied in a somber voice

"So who are you again?" Harry asked, wiping his tears away on his dirty sleeve.

At hearing Harry's words the man seemed to struggle with himself for a second as if steeling himself for some unwelcome task. He leaned toward Harry, his hand extended.

"I'm Remus Lupin. You probably don't remember me, you were just a babe at the time, but I was a good friend of your mother and father. I used to dandle you on my knee." He said with a sad kind of smile.

"Really! You knew mum and dad?" Harry asked with excitement, grabbing the man's hand and giving it a hesitant shake with the hint of a smile on his face. When their hands made contact, however, Harry was suddenly overwhelmed with emotions of animalistic fury and savage fierceness.

Snarling, Harry dropped his hands to the ground in a crouch. He recognized those feelings from the ritual. He wasn't sure where they came from, but he was beyond caring. The man, seeing Harry's reaction, stepped backward involuntarily. He seemed to recover himself, however, and stepped forward once more.

"Harry? Are you allright?" he asked.

"Who are you?" Harry snarled, still in his crouched position, like a snake coiled to strike.

The man seemed hesitant and unsure. "I told you Harry. I'm Remus Lupin. I was a…"

"I know what you said!" Harry screamed. "Now tell me who you _really_ are! What were you doing here last night?"

"Well…you see….I…was" the man stuttered, anxious and unsure. Taking a deep breath, he looked into Harry's eyes. Instead of the childlike innocence and grief he expected to see in the young boy's eyes, what he saw was something completely different. He saw an animalistic fury in the boy's stance. His heightened senses told him that he was facing a very real threat. He didn't know what to think. He saw here a young boy, alone in the woods, torn by grief and despair. More so, he saw a living, breathing reminder of his best mate, James Potter, and the answering of his most secret prayer.

Shaking his head, he decided to ignore his senses. Little Harry Potter wasn't a threat, he decided. He was family…or as close as he would ever get, anyway. Rationally, he knew he should lie to the boy. He was far too young to understand or appreciate the truth of Remus' condition. But, looking into Harry's green eyes, so like his mother's, he couldn't bring himself to lie. Instead, he squatted down, ignoring his bruised and protesting joints.

"Harry, I was here last night because it's the safest place for me to be, due to my condition."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What condition?"

"Well, you see….Harry…..I'm a werewolf."

"A werewolf." Harry said in a level voice. "You're a werewolf."

"Yes." Remus replied. "You see, when I was a child…"

"Last night was a full moon." Harry interrupted.

Remus swallowed. "Yes. I usually stay the night at the shrieking shack. It's normally very safe. But it is very old and hasn't really been treated kindly over the years. The wood may have rotted….I can't think why…"

"Did you kill Tippy?" Harry asked in a quiet, almost eerie voice.

"Harry, you have to understand. If there was anything I could have done or could do, I would. I would never willingly hurt someone like that. But my condition…"

"DID YOU KILL TIPPY?" Harry screamed as rage and vengeance surged through his head and his heart.

Remus didn't notice however, as he was swallowed by equally powerful feelings or guilt and despair. If he had known what was going on with Harry or if he'd paid closer attention to his own preternatural senses, he might have answered differently. But he didn't do those things. Remus knew the debt and obligation he held to the boy in front of him. He knew it to the core of his being. So instead of lying or obfuscating, he did what he thought was right. He told the truth.

"I did. But it was an accident, I promise."

Remus fully expected the backlash of anger and recrimination from Harry. He was ready to help Harry through it. He knew he might never be forgiven. He was prepared to deal with the tears and the guilt and the blame. But, he wasn't prepared for, what he never expected to see when he looked up at Harry's face were those expressive green eyes change to a malevolent and glowing amber. He didn't expect the hairs to raise on the back of his neck and arms or the sizzling, almost electric feeling in the air. He didn't know what caused this manifestation, but he did know that he was suddenly and fervently afraid.

When Harry heard Remus admit his guilt, something inside him broke free. The fury and the vengeance inside him swelled up from a burning torrent to a fiery maelstrom that was all encompassing. He had no rational thought. He knew only pain and the need to strike out. The sounds of the forest suddenly became clearer and his senses sharper and more focused. He narrowed his amber, glowing eyes at the creature in front of him, its words and explanation burned up by his rage. His fingers clawed into the dirt and his legs bunched underneath him. When the creature looked up at him, he could almost smell its fear. As it opened its mouth to speak, Harry leapt.

Flying through the air, Harry clawed and scratched at the creature, whose panic and fear only fueled the fire that burned within him. Try as he might, his fingers and feet could find no purchase. His small frame and clipped nails were not suitable weapons. They could not draw the blood of this creature. His momentum however had caught the man unaware and together they went down in a flurry of limbs. As they hit the ground, Harry on top, he seized the creatures robes in his slender hands. With strength far beyond his years, he lifted the man and slung him bodily into the ground. As soon as he landed, he was at him again. This time his hands on his throat. With all the strength he could muster he tried to squeeze the life out of him, even as the creature tried to pry him off. He could see the purpling of the man's face as he tried to draw breath. He heard but didn't recognize the words that the man was struggling to say.

"Harry….don't…" Remus wheezed.

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Harry's blood roared in his ears as he snarled and hissed his naked fury. So caught up was Harry in his bloodlust that he never noticed the creature's hand as it let go of Harry's grip. Neither did he notice the small stick that it pressed into his side. The last thing he heard was a whisper, faint and tremulous, like a sigh on the wind.

"stupefy.." A flash of red and then blackness.

When Harry came to, he was laying on the ground floor of Potter Manor. His had headache and he could feel tender bump on the back of his head. His memories of attacking Mr. Lupin were vague and though he remembered his actions, he couldn't understand why he reacted like that. Thinking back on it, he didn't really regret it. The man had murdered Tippy. Intellectually he knew that werewolves couldn't control their actions while transformed. He knew that such people were themselves the victims of a werewolf attack, but that didn't matter. Tippy was dead at his hands and that was that.

Getting to his feet, he looked around the house. He didn't see any signs that Mr. Lupin was in the house, but that left him in a bit of a quandary. He didn't know if the _Fidelius_ was still active or if he could enter the basement, because _Fidelius_ or no, it was walled up and he didn't know how to apparate. Not on purpose, anyway. Walking around the house, Harry was amazed at the strange glow that surrounded many of the objects he saw. He could only guess that those objects were magical, because they appeared much like the magic in his core. He didn't know what to make of this new ability. The colors he saw were all a little different. Each object differed in its color, shape and intensity. He couldn't make heads or tails of what any of it meant, but it was interesting nonetheless.

Making his way back to the sitting room, he still couldn't think of any way to get back in the basement. He had all but decided to go ahead and try to aparate anyway. He was hungry and his head was still pounding. Shutting his eyes, Harry pictured the living area in the basement. Gritting his teeth, he spun around, and with a loud crack…lost his balance as he smashed his leg on the end table, falling into an undignified heap on the floor.

"Bloody wonderful! Great thinking, Charlus! Make us a hideout with no way inside. Simply brilliant! Moldy old fart needs a turpentine bath, he does!" Harry muttered, rubbing his injured bum. As he was about to try again, he heard an unmistakable murmur coming from a cupboard under the stairs to his right. Harry ran over and yanked the door open and to his surprise found Charlus' painting inside.

"Charlus? What are you doing in the cupboard?" he asked.

"What indeed!" Charlus exclaimed. "Needed to use the loo and was looking for some paper. What do you think, boy? Lupin put me in here. Stupid mangy, no-good, flea bitten, back biting, shite eating pile of monkey dung…"

"Is he here then? I didn't see him." Harry asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Oh yes! He's just inside the cupboard! Thought we'd have a spot of tea followed by a good rogering! Use that lump that sits on your neck, boy. He scampered off, sorry coward, if I only had 'me wand, then I'd.."

"Uncle!" Harry yelled.

"What!" Charlus yelled back.

"We can't get back home." Harry replied.

"What? Where do you think we are, Victoria Station?" Charlus responded, waving his hands around dramatically.

Sighing to himself, Harry grabbed the painting and dragged it across the room and placed it against the wall. Facing the painting, Harry waved his arms around, mimicking his uncle's sarcasm.

"Basement…._Fidelius_….secret keeper…underage wizard….Ring any bells?"

"Right, right, I see." Charlus responded, nonplussed. "Well….you could always try apparating. We're well warded, so no problems there. Course if you splinch yourself it could be a wee bother. But, nothing ventured and all that rot." He replied.

"Do you think the _Fidelius_ is still active?" he asked.

"Hmmm. Now that you mention it, it might have dissipated by now. Not really sure how long the effect lasts." Charlus replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"How can we tell?" Harry asked.

"What? Oh. Well logically…Don't give me that look boy. I'm the very paragon of logic and scholarly adeptitude." Charlus huffed.

"You made that word up!" Harry exclaimed.

"No I didn't! Why if you go to in the library and get that dictionary you're so fond of, you'll find my very picture in the definition! Made it up, he says! I'll have you know that when I was at Hogwarts, all the girls commented on my adeptitude."

"Are you sure they didn't say decrepitude? Cause that I can see. Plus, it's a real word." Harry laughed.

"Hmmph! Well I never!" Charlus replied with a look of such indignation that Harry couldn't help but laugh again at his antics.

"So, anyway. If you would be so kind, Your Adeptitudeness, could you please explain how we can tell if the charm is broken?"

Charlus fixed Harry with a baleful eye, but nevertheless scratched his beard in thought. This continued for a full minute and then he got a gleam in his eye.

"I've got it!" he exclaimed.

"And…?" Harry asked.

"Tell me where we live."

"Er...in the basement?" Harry answered.

"Yes, yes. Very astute. But where is the basement?" Charlus asked.

Harry scratched his head, confused by the question. "Umm…down there?" he said, pointing at the floor.

"And where is this floor located?" Charlus asked.

By now, Harry was good and confused, but he soldiered on. "Potter Manor?"

"Exactly! So where is the basement? Come on, Harry! Put it all together!" he encouraged.

Finally, the light of comprehension shone from his face. "The basement is located under the first floor of Potter Manor!" Harry exclaimed. "That means the _Fidelius _has been broken!

"Oh! Very good Harry! Your wit astounds! No, really! Why, to think in another 120 years, you'll be as smart as my painting!"

"Oh, shut it you. We still don't know how to get in."

"Good point."

"Any ideas?" Harry asked impatiently.

"We could blast our way in. Messy, sure, but definitely possible." Charlus answered.

"How do we do that?" Harry asked.

"Do you have your wand?"

Harry looked around the sitting room and found his knapsack on a chair in the corner. Searching through it, he located his wand. He grabbed it and returned to the painting. Charlus was standing in his portrait with his painted wand in his hand. He showed Harry the wand movement and incantation for a blasting curse. Harry stepped into the middle of the room and leveled his wand at the bricked over wall where he knew the doorway to be.

"Reducto!" Harry yelled, making a stabbing motion with his wand. A single spark fell impotently from the end and landed harmlessly on the floor. Harry looked at his wand in disbelief. True, he had never attempted the curse before, but felt sure that he could get a better response than that. He stood straight and tried again.

"REDUCTO!" he yelled. This time, not even a spark appeared and Harry was getting frustrated at his failure.

"Why won't it work?" Harry whined, turning to face Charlus.

His uncle appeared to be as vexed as Harry. He sat down in his chair and scratched his beard thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure." He answered. "I would have thought it would get more response than that. You did everything right as far as I could tell. Either something is wrong with your wand or your core was damaged in some way from the ritual."

Seeing the look of panic that suddenly appeared on Harry's face he quickly reassured him. "It'll be fine, Harry. We'll figure it out. Don't worry."

Harry slumped to the ground in defeat. "So what do we do now?" he asked.

"We'll just have to wait for Lupin to get back. It's all we can do at this point." Charlus replied.

"Wait! He's coming back here?" Harry exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

"Of course! You didn't think he'd leave you to fend for yourself, did you?"

"But he's a murderer. How could you let him come back after what he did to Tippy!?" Harry screamed.

Charlus put his head in his hands and sighed. Looking up at Harry with a sad and knowing look, he said, "Harry, it wasn't his fault."

Harry looked at him incredulously for a moment. After a few seconds, however, he seemed to wilt. He slumped his shoulders and sat down on the hardwood floor.

"I know." He said. "It's just…hard. I know he didn't mean to, but I don't know if I can forgive him."

"Life is often like that," Charlus replied. "It's always a struggle to do the right thing. But I want you to know, Harry that Remus is a good man. He and your father were very close and I doubt there is anything you can do that would keep him away now that he knows your alive."

"So he and dad were really close?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes! Surely you remember me telling you about the Marauders." Charlus said.

"Remus was a marauder?" Harry asked.

"He was. A real bright fellow, our Remus was. Always a little reserved, but terribly loyal and wicked with charms. He was the only one of the group that could keep up with your mum." Charlus answered.

Harry pondered that for a bit. He was torn between his loyalty to Tippy and his hunger to reclaim a little bit of his stolen past. Charlus had regaled him with many stories about the Marauders and even though he didn't want to, he felt the stirrings of a little hope at the thought of spending time with his father's friend. Gathering his courage, he decided that he would do his best to not hold the matter of Tippy's death against the man. As he sat on the floor, he fell into a meditative trance and started feeding those thoughts of blame and anger into the hungry flames.


	8. A Bitter truth

Chapter 8; A Bitter Truth

Perhaps an hour later, Remus returned to the manor. He arrived dragging a trunk behind him and a brown paper bag filled with takeout food in his hand. Both of them were hesitant around each other at first, but gradually started to loosen up. The matter of getting into the basement was easily solved. With an almost negligent wave of his wand, Remus transfigured the bricks into a simple wooden doorway. As they sat in the comfortable chairs around the basement's kitchen table, Harry couldn't help but feel more comfortable and secure. He knew that with the _fidelius_ broken, there was no particular reason to be restricted to the basement, but Harry had spent most of his short life there. He considered it home. As they ate, Charlus filled Remus in on how they came to be living there and some of the highlights in Harry's education and training. Remus listened to it all with a look of wonder on his face. At one point in the story, he turned to Harry.

"You brewed polyjuice potion at the age of five?" he asked.

Harry nodded his head and Lupin just looked at him in awe. "You know that is a NEWT level potion, right?"

"What's a NEWT level?" Harry asked.

"Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Levels. It's the standardized test for the upper forms. For you to be doing that level work is really….."

"Extraordinary?" Harry supplied. Charlus huffed in the background.

"Depressing, more like. I was lucky to brew that successfully in my sixth year. 'Course I was pants at potions. Still, at your age its is quite extraordinary."

Harry smirked at Charlus.

"Don't lavish praise on the whelp," Charlus complained. "He's no prodigy. He blew up five different cauldron's before he ever succeeded. If anything, he's a bit of a duffer."

Remus and Harry just looked at each other, then they both broke out in laughs. Not soon after dinner, Harry trundled off to bed. Remus couldn't help but get up and check on him every so often, just to make sure he was real. He and Charlus talked long into the night, discussing events in the wizarding world and making plans for Harry's education. Remus at first voiced his concern that Harry was living such a sheltered life. But, a quick reminder of the fate of Harry's parents and the unknown status of Voldemort quickly turned him around. When the topic invariably turned to Sirius, Remus argued strongly that they should go to Dumbledore with their suspicions, but Charlus would not be swayed. Remus didn't believe that the great wizard had knowingly sent an innocent man to prison. But, he did allow that he didn't put up much resistance, either. Remus also felt guilty, because he too had believed Sirius guilty. Why did Sirius confess, if he wasn't guilty? Even if he didn't betray the Potters, why did he kill all those muggles when he went to confront Peter? He had so many questions that needed answers and he knew that there was only one way to get them. He would have to pay Sirius a visit. Remus would have to go to Azkaban.

Azkaban Prison was set on a lonely, desolate chunk of rock carved out of the frigid waters of the North Sea. Worse still was the malevolence that hung about it like a cloud. Standing on the shore looking up at it, Remus couldn't believe anyone would survive in that awful place. It broke his heart to consider Sirius holed up in some dank, dark cell under the cruel ministrations of the dementor guards. Remus knew that few people could stay there for long with their sanity intact. He hoped Sirius was one of those rare few.

Though Azkaban was a stone fortress, that was possibly the least of its formidable defenses. The first line of defense was just getting access to the island. The Ministry of Magic required all visitors to the prison to first receive a pass. This pass required a background check and sometimes it took weeks to clear the bureaucratic hurdles.

The second barrier was that it could only be approached in one of the three boats that anchored across the harbor. Before you could enter the boats, you had to show your pass and were exhaustively searched for charmed or enchanted objects. Carrying potions into the prison was also strictly forbidden.

The third defense were the impenetrable wards that surrounded the entire island. Though Remus didn't know for sure all the different wards on the place, he did know from his readings that there were wards that prevented apparation or portkeys and apparently dispelled active glamours or transfigurations.

The last protection was perhaps the most formidable; the dementors themselves. A dementor was one of the most foul creatures that you could find this side of hell itself. A soul sucking monster that could drain you of all happiness and leave you nothing more than a soulless husk. Dementors were very resistant to magic, all but impossible to kill and the only defense against them was the _Patronus_ charm, a notoriously difficult spell to master. Though Remus could do it, it did him little good as his wand was confiscated before he ever reached the boat.

Now he stood on the shore, looking up at the nightmarish edifice, knowing he was all but defenseless against the creatures and about to enter their domain. He was a brave man, but he couldn't help the shiver than ran up his spine. Remus gathered his courage and strode purposefully to the front gate where he was immediately accosted by two burly guards.

"Here now! What're yer after?" One of the guards asked in a thick cockney drawl. Both guards fixed him with identical disapproving looks. Remus reached into the pocket of his robes, keeping his eyes on the two guards who kept their wands pointed at him. He handed the papers to the guard who had spoken and waited silently for them to let him pass.

"Says here yer to see Sirius Black," the guard sneered. "What's a little mite like you got ter see 'im for?" he asked.

Remus knew well how to deal with disapproving looks. As a werewolf he got them all the time. "I fail to see how that is any concern of yours," he said, giving a sneer of his own. "I have my business and it is none of yours."

If they had any reaction at all to Remus' words, they didn't show it. These were hardened men. If dementors didn't drive them from their job, then Remus wasn't about to get to them.

"Seems like everythin's in order. Make yer way through the gates and take yer first left. That there's the visitor's desk and they'll get ya' processed. Keep them papers on you at all times and stick with yer escort. The dementors won't brook no nonesense, so mind you watch yer step."

"That I'll do." Remus said. "Good day."

Remus followed their instructions and signed in at the visitor's desk. Unlike muggle prisons, the prisoners of Azkaban were never allowed outside their cells. Visitors were escorted to the cells by red robed aurors and their paths were cleared ahead of time to avoid civilian contact with the demonic guards. For this, Remus was very thankful. Since entering the prison, the aura of hopelessness that surrounded this place had increased tenfold. It was barely helped by the shining silver badger that the guard had conjured. The little _Patroni _barely made a dent in the oppressive atmosphere.

They walked through a warren of twisting, turning corridors that held innumerable small cells. Remus could tell that these were low-security prisoners. They were healthy and boisterous as he passed, calling out either obscenities or requests to the guard. One fellow who had long, greasy hair and an eyepatch even tried to make a grab for Remus through the bars of his door, but he was repelled by the quick stinging hex the Auror sent his way. At last they arrived at some stone steps that led downward into the dungeons that housed their most infamous criminals.

Going down several flights, they arrived at the high-security wing. The corridor itself was dimly lit, seemingly in agreement with the character of the people within. Here were the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr. Murderers and rapists the lot of them. When Remus had served in the Order of the Phoenix, he had had the misfortune of meeting several of these fiends. Remus expected these prisoners, more than most, to react to his presence. He was surpised however, when no faces appeared in the small windows in the cell doors as he passed. Remus guessed that the dementors had drained most of the energy out of these miserable bastards.

Towards the end of the corridor, they came to a stop. The guard took a key out of his robes and turned to Remus.

"You sure you want to go in?" he asked. "Most of these folks would kill you just as soon as look at you." He gave Remus an inquiring look.

"Yes, I'm sure. Thank you for your concern." Remus replied never removing his gaze from the cell door.

"Don't say I didn't warn you. Just stay on your toes, I'll be just down the hall if you need me."

Remus nodded and the guard placed the key in the lock and turned it. Remus steadied himself and approached the door. With a deep breath, Remus looked through the small window to the man inside. Through the dim light, he could just make out the outline of a man with dark, matted hair laying curled up on his bunk. Just the sight of Sirius in such a pitiable state made Remus' heart ache for his friend. Without further thought he yanked open the door and stepped inside.

Hearing the noise, Sirius Black sat up and squinted his eyes against the light. When Remus stepped forward into the darkness, Sirius' eyes lit up with surprise.

"Moony?" he croaked. "Is that you?"

"It's me." Remus choked out.

"MOONY!" Sirius yelled, stumbling towards his longtime friend. Sirius grabbed Remus by the shoulders and then drew him into a joyful hug. As Remus wrapped his arms around Sirius he wept openly at how frail and thin Sirius was under his dirty robes.

"Merlin's balls, Moony! I can't believe you came!" He said excitedly. "I mean I hoped and prayed…, but I never really thought…."

Whatever he was going to say was swallowed up by the sob that escaped Sirius' as he hugged his friend.

Remus helped an obviously weak and frail Sirius back over to his cot and sat down beside him. He couldn't take his eyes off him. He noticed his gaunt cheeks, dark, sunken eyes and wild, matted hair. This was obviously not the dashing and somewhat arrogant young aristocrat that he had grown up beside. There was no mischievous sparkle dancing behind his eyes. Remus hoped it wasn't gone for good. Sirius too seemed mesmerized by his companion, sitting silently with his mouth slightly opened as if he were eyeing a precious artifact. After some moments the spell was broken when he voiced the obvious question.

"Why did you come now, after all this time?" he asked.

Remus looked down at his feet. He knew what Sirius was asking, even if he was too good to say it. _Why did you abandon me in this hell. Why didn't you come to see me sooner?_ Remus didn't have a good answer.

He couldn't say that there at the end, just before James and Lilly went into hiding, the inseparable quartet of friends were nearly torn apart from suspicion and recrimination. James and Lilly were increasingly distancing themselves from Remus and couldn't or wouldn't give him any explanation. Now, knowing about the _Fidelius_, he could understand their reasons. But, at the time, it hurt him to think that he had lost their faith and trust.

When James and Lilly were killed and Sirius was arrested, he simply existed in a state of shock. Even Dumbledore, the wise and all powerful Mugwump seemed convinced of Sirius' guilt. Remus hadn't had the legal standing or the presence of mind to contest the arrest. Afterward, he just hadn't wanted to think of it. He had almost immediately set out on an extended sabbatical, bouncing like a leaf on the wind from one tedious, menial job to the next. Looking at his friend now he felt ashamed for his weakness.

"I'm sorry, Sirius. I should have come sooner, but I just…..I couldn't….damn it all!" he yelled, punching his fists into his legs. He took a breath.

"I should have come to see you. Hear your side of the story. I've got no excuse." He said, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Surprisingly, it was Sirius who offered the comfort. He draped his scrawny arm around Remus' shoulders and gave him a gently squeeze.

"Easy, Remus. I understand. Believe me, if I ever get out of here, you can bet your arse I wouldn't come back. Not for anything. I don't blame you at all. Especially not after what I did!" he said.

Remus looked up. "What did you do?" Remus asked, turning his gaze back to his friends haunted face. "I know what the ministry said, but I don't believe it. What really happened?"

So Sirius gave Remus a halting and tear streaked account of the events following James and Lilly's death. He told him about switching with Peter as secret keeper and about how he had found out about their betrayal and murder. He told him how he had been so enraged that he had gone out searching for vengeance against Pettigrew and about cornering him in a muggle market. He ended with a description of the firefight that had ensued and about how Peter had cut off his own finger and transformed into his animagus form to escape into the sewers as a rat.

So maddened with grief and guilt was Sirius, that he blamed himself for their deaths. It was his idea, after all, to switch with Peter as secret keeper, convinced that the meek Peter would be above suspicion. Ironically, he was right about one thing. Peter was above suspicion. No one in law enforcement or at the ministry would credit Peter with the crimes he had committed, slaughtering more than a dozen muggles in a fiery explosion to cover his escape.

"The _Prophet _claimed that you confessed killing James and Lilly when they confronted you on the scene. Did that really happen?" Remus asked, wide eyed at the harrowing tale.

"I did kill them!" Sirius exclaimed, "or as good as, anyway. If I hadn't switched with the little coward, they would still be alive!"

Remus grabbed Sirius by the shoulders and shook him. "Don't say that!" he yelled. "You did nothing wrong. You couldn't have known Peter would betray them like that!"

"Maybe…" Sirius responded.

"Maybe my arse! Nobody ever suspected Peter of anything. That's why we were able to get away with so many pranks at school. Instant alibi, remember?"

"Yeah," Sirius sniffed. "I still remember that prank we pulled on Slughorn. Got caught nearly red-handed after we charmed all the chalk in his classroom. McGonagall caught us trying to sneak back into the common room and Peter told her we were out trying to catch his pet rat that had escaped. I still can't believe she swallowed that!"

"I know." Remus chuckled. "Whatever else you say, Peter is an accomplished liar."

"Yeah, he is." Sirius said. "I wish I could get my hands on that little snake!"

Remus jumped up and peeked out the little window on the cell door, checking to see if the guard had returned. When he satisfied himself that the coast was clear, he turned to face a confused looking Sirius.

"About that," he said. "We've got some ideas about how we can get you out of here. It might take us a little while to get it together, but we're working on it, alright?"

"Who's we?" Sirius asked with a gleam of hope in his eye. "The Order?"

"No. I can't go into it now, but trust me, we'll get you out. Okay?" Remus said.

"Sure, Moony. If anyone can do it, it's you. You always were the brains of the Marauders." Sirius smiled.

"Well, someone had to be. Merlin knows you guys didn't have a whole brain between you!" Remus laughed.

"Hey!" Sirius objected.

Remus gave him a knowing look.

"Well, you may be right, at that. Doesn't mean you're not an arrogant berk…" Sirius said.

"Of course not! One of my better qualities." Remus replied. "Anyway, give us some time. In the mean time, we got you little present."

Remus sat back down on the bunk and grabbed the heel of his boot and gave it a gentle twist. The boot heel pivoted around revealing a hidden compartment and a small vial hidden within. Remus removed the vial and passed it to Sirius. He then repeated the process on the other boot and produced another vial.

"What's this then?" he asked with a look of wonder on his face.

"It's a strengthening solution. Pretty simple really, but be careful. It's concentrated. The other one is dreamless sleep. Take a sip of the strengthening solution with your meal every couple of days. It should help you get your strength back. We even managed to infuse it with chocolate extract so it should lessen the effect of the dementors. Same with the dreamless sleep. It's addicting, so it can only be taken every third day. I know it's not much, but it should help you get some peaceful sleep."

Sirius' eyes filled with grateful tears. He grabbed Remus in another hug. "Thanks mate, I really appreciate it!" He said.

"S' nothing," Remus sobbed. "You just take care of yourself, okay!"

"I will."

With that, Remus gave him a final pat on the back stood at the door, motioning for the guard to let him out. He gave Sirius a final wave and he and the guard made their way down the dark and forbidding corridors. Soon after, Remus was again aboard a small boat heading for shore. He scrubbed a hand through his windswept hair and tried to shake off the chilling effects of Azkaban prison. Even being there for so short a time had taken a toll on him. He couldn't imagine spending years there like Sirius had. He vowed again to get his friend out of that hell. The sooner the better.


	9. Newton's Folly

Chapter 9; Newton's Folly

The first few weeks following the botched ritual were not easy on Harry. For one thing, his eyesight was all wonky. The strange effect that he had picked up would come and go, often at the most inopportune times. It was very difficult to brew potions when the moonflies glittered in Technicolor light. He had discussed the matter ad nauseum with Charlus and the old painting had cursed and swore up a storm, muttering to himself about ungrateful urchins complaining about developing 'mage-sight' before their balls had dropped. It took no little cajoling for Harry to find out what mage-sight was. When he found out, he had to admit to being a little impressed. It was a rare gift and usually only came to much older, more experience wizards.

The other thing that was bothering him was his magic. It just wasn't working for him like it used to. Once Charlus sent him upstairs to find a silver cauldron for some project he had planned and while Harry was trying to search the attic, he had attempted to cast a _lumos_ spell with his wand and nothing happened. Not even a spark. Harry couldn't understand it. He had been casting that spell successfully for years with no problem. But now it was like his magic wasn't even there. He knew it was, of course, but it had him vexed. The ritual was supposed to stabilize and strengthen his core, but something obviously went very wrong. None of the few spells that Harry knew were working properly. He, Charlus and Remus had discussed it at length and they were all at a loss.

Even more bothersome for Harry was the presence of Remus Lupin. He had all but moved into the house. Harry wasn't sure how he felt about the older man. For all intents and purposes, he appeared a kind and gentle man. He had a good sense of humor and held his own against Charlus and Harry's often ascerbic repartee. He obviously doted on Harry and tried his upmost to be helpful and solicitous. But, whenever Harry looked at him, he couldn't help but picture Tippy's glassy eyed and bloody body, laying in a shallow grave. Harry knew it wasn't fair, but he couldn't help the way he felt.

Sometimes it led him to be short with his father's friend and often he would be overcome with emotion and have to scurry off, pretending to be off on some errand or other around the house. If Remus had caught on to his pretense, he made no mention of it and for that, Harry was glad.

When Remus returned from Azkaban he filled Charlus and Harry in on Sirius' tale. They were all shocked at the story and the horrible fate that Sirius had endured. They redoubled their efforts to find a way to free him. Remus still pushed for them to take the case to the Ministry, but Charlus adamantly refused. He contended that without Pettigrew, there was no case to be heard and reminded Remus that it was the same Ministry that had sent Sirius to prison without a trial. Remus wasn't altogether happy with the decision, but he didn't press it. Instead they spent many long hours trying to figure a way to breach to fortress' wards and attempt a rescue. It was that hope that had Harry and Remus scouring the Manor's library for all the information they could find on wards and ward breaking. Three weeks of intensive study resulted in short tempers and sleepless nights. On the fifth day of the third week, they finally had a breakthrough.

The day found the three around the kitchen table, the surface of which could barely be found under the mountain of books they had collected. Harry was reading a treatise written by Charlemagne Cobblepot entitled _The Artful Use of Artifice; a Beginner's Guide to Burglary_, when he came upon the discovery.

Harry was having a hard time keeping his eyes open at the time. He was a bright boy, but much of what he was reading was hopelessly beyond him. He was about to throw the book down in disgust, when his eyes fell on the entry on the opposing page.

_The Null Field Effect_

_The Null Field is a very useful tool in the Artificer's arsenal. It is thought to have been first discovered by the celebrated researcher Sir Isaac Newton when developing his theory on magical resonance. According to some accounts, Newton became frustrated while attempting to map a particular spell matrix because he kept picking up interference from the magical saturation present in his laboratory. His cunning solution was to inscribe a small diamond with an inverted Egyptian Power Glyph on each of the diamond's facets. _

_It was widely known at that time that crystals were excellent storer's of magical energy. The Pharoah's, in particular, made frequent use of them to power the wards and curses in their tombs. By enlarging the diamond and inverting the glyph, Newton was able to create a diamond that drew in power, rather than expelling it. Newton discovered its effectiveness when he attempted to shrink the diamond back to it's original size and was drained so rapidly that he was left, little more than a squib, for the better part of a week. An interesting side note to this was that the contraceptive charm that he regularly applied to himself failed as well. Newton's prolonged bed rest left him at the mercy of his starved-for-attention wife and the formidable Mrs. Newton took advantage of her husband's convalescence. They were both quite surprised when, three months later it was discovered that Mrs. Newton, aged 93 years, was pregnant with twins._

_Newton was able to counter the drain by placing a series of identical diamonds at precise intervals around the shielded area. The result exceeded his wildest expectations. When constructed in such a manner, a null field was created at the center of the construction. All magic, either ambient or directed in the vicinity was drawn into the diamonds while the center, which lies outside (or rather, inside) the diamonds' effect remains completely free from all magical emanations. _

_For the properly prepared purloiner, the applications of this invention are astounding. A single drain can draw power from wards and shields, weakening or collapsing them over time, depending on their strength and the quality, size and purity of the gem. The Null Field however, can render all wards and even offensive spellfire, completely obsolete. If disapparation or anti-portkey wards are erected around the null field, they have no affect within the shielded area._

_For further information on the correct construction of the Null Field, see the diagram below:_

The further Harry read, the more sure he was that this was the answer they were looking for. He knew if they could nullify the wards around Azkaban, then they would be halfway to freeing Sirius.

"I think I found something!" he yelled.

Remus looked up from his heavy book. "What've you got?" he asked.

"The _Null Field Effect. _The author's a bit dodgy but it looks like it might work. Gotta wonder where we'd get ahold of some diamonds though." He said.

Remus came around the table and started reading over Harry's shoulder. "Hmm," he said, " that does seem promising. I seem to remember reading something about that."

As he peered over Harry's shoulder, Harry ducked out of his way and eased himself around the table, uncomfortable with the man's close presence. After a time, Remus looked up from his reading and fixed him with a warm smile.

"Excellent work, Harry! Really top-notch. We'll need to test it out, of course. But I think this might just do the trick!"

Harry gave him a timid smile in return, a faint blush on his cheeks at the unaccustomed praise.

The next day brought with it a sense of excitement and purpose in Harry. He was looking forward to learning some new and fascinating magic. He and Remus started by clearing out the ballroom upstairs. Harry, still unable to perform even the simplest spells, merely watched as Remus scourgified the floor and banished the furniture up against the walls.

After that they searched the house for anything that might contain the high-quality diamonds they needed. They didn't have to look far. The Potters were, after all, a moderately wealthy family and the dresser in the master bedroom contained a wealth of jewelry. They finally decided on a pair of earrings that each held a plethora of small diamonds. There were certainly higher quality pieces in the collection, but neither Harry nor Remus wanted to destroy a family heirloom on their risky venture. Removing their booty to their makeshift lab, Remus quickly removed a handful of the gems from their settings while Harry went in search for materials to use as bracing in their contraption.

Harry knew from experience that there was a storeroom in the barn that had all manner of scraps of lumber and metal used to make repairs around the grounds. Sifting through the dust covered scraps, Harry found some lengths of wood that would suit their purposes. The composition of the material was unimportant. It would only serve as a support to hold the diamonds in the required positions. With some difficulty, he managed to drag them up to the Manor and upstairs into the ballroom. When he arrived, panting and sweaty, he noticed that Remus had conjured a stand for one of the diamonds and had enlarged the stone to many times its previous size. It now was the size of a hen's egg. It was tapered on one end and flat and faceted on the other. Harry thought it rather looked like a top that he and Tippy used to play with when he was younger. Remus had set the glittering gem on the stand and started casting spells at it, stopping every so often to scribble in a notebook.

"What are you doing now?" Harry asked.

"What? Oh, yes," Remus replied. "Well, to create the desired effect, the diamonds need to be identical in size, shape and quality or as near as we can manage. I'm just casting some measuring spells on them. There are a few differences, but not enough to matter. The real question is in their placement. The capacity of each gem must be measured to the upmost degree. Once we have that figured, we'll be able to calculate their placement. I'm going to charge each of them to capacity and then we'll try and measure the amount of magic they can hold as well as their discharge rate. Newton's calculations contain an arithmantical formula for their placement. We just input the proper variables and we should get a solution."

Harry walked over to him. Remus was obviously in his element. Harry had only the vaguest notion of what Remus was talking about. He had studied only the basics of Arithmancy. He could do simple calculations, but little more. He was, however, eager to learn more from this obviously educated man.

"So, how do we charge them?" Harry asked.

"Well, there are several ways. Wizards who have greater control of their magic can simply push their magic outward through their wand and get the proper effect. But, I've never been able to gain that kind of control. The other way I know is to place your wand on the stone and say the incantation _expecto magicus. _Either way works." He replied.

"Can I watch you do one?" Harry asked with a hint of excitement in his voice.

"Of course! I was just waiting for you to get back so that I could start. It will take a couple of days to do all of them, in any case. It can be pretty exhausting expelling your magic like that."

Remus approached the stone and placed his wand against the flattened face. He looked up at Harry. "Just give the word." He said.

"The word!" Harry laughed.

Rolling his eyes, Remus took a deep and steadying breath. "Expecto Magicus!" he intoned.

As soon as the words left his mouth, a soft glow emanated from his wand tip. Shortly , the gem itself began to glow with a pale blue light that gradually grew in intensity. This lasted for a full minute before Remus released the spell, his shoulders slumped in fatigue. Harry was too mesmerized by the diamond to notice. In the course of a minute it had transformed from a soft glow to a radiant near-white. Harry squinted his eyes and studied it. Suddenly, like a switch was thrown, his vision shifted into mage-sight.

The diamond was even more brilliant under the Sight. It swirled and pulsated in ever changing colors. First green, then yellow and red and some colors Harry couldn't even recognize. It was beautiful. Without knowing, Harry approached the gem. Before Remus could raise an objection, he placed his hands on it. It was slightly warm to the touch and Harry thought he could feel it vibrating faintly against his fingertips. The longer he looked at it, the more he felt drawn into its glowing depths. He felt a connection, not so much with the diamond, but with the raw magic it contained. Something about it answered a question that he had never asked or even conceived. Whatever it was that drew him, it was interrupted when Harry felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Remus asked with concern.

"What? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine." He mumbled. "Looks like it worked."

"Yes," Remus replied. "Took a fair bit out of me though. I'm knackered. Won't be able to repeat that for some time. What say we go scrounge up some food."

"Sounds good. Lugging those great, bloody beams up two flights of stairs nearly did me in."

"Lead on, Macduff!" Remus said, sketching an elaborate bow. Harry rolled his eyes and lead the way downstairs.


	10. Impractical Magic

Chapter 10; Impractical Magic

After tea and a short nap, Harry and Remus were once again in the ballroom, this time accompanied by Charlus' painting. All through their meal Charlus had complained about being left out of their important work. His irritation wasn't helped when Harry attempted to spell-o-tape his mouth shut after a half hour or near constant whining. It didn't work of course, but both Harry and Remus were holding their sides in laughter as the painted figure danced back and forth inside his frame trying to avoid Harry's questing hands.

Harry didn't really have a part to play in charging the stones, but he was interested nonetheless. He hovered around Remus as the older man prepared to cast the spell, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. Harry found the entire idea fascinating. The art of artificing, or imbuing non-magical objects with magical properties, was a new concept to him. From his reading he had discovered that it differed from enchanting which only conveyed a magical effect on an object. Wizard's portraits were artifices, as was the famous Hogwart's sorting hat. Those items had their own unique magic and artificer's were also able to convey a form of sentient intelligence to the objects of their craft.

As Remus began to charge the next diamond, Harry picked up one of the other diamonds from the table. Engorged as it was, it was surprisingly heavy. He wondered if he would ever gain enough control over his erratic magic to perform these kinds of spells. He was tired of being useless. If he had been a better wizard, he was sure he could have saved Tippy from her horrible fate.

As his thoughts drifted to his deceased friend, he felt a surge of emotions fill him. Feelings of love, loyalty and protectiveness overcame him until he felt he would drown in their pervasive strength. Harry shut his eyes against the onslaught and tried to calm his thoughts. They would not obey. Opening his eyes again he immediately noticed that he had slipped into mage-sight. Looking around him, he noticed that there were quite a few items in the room that carried the soft glow that indicated latent magic. Charlus' painting gave off a faint but unmistakable aura and Remus and the gem he was imbuing fairly burned with bright intensity. What really surprised him, however, was that his own hands were also giving off a bright, radiant light.

If Harry had been in full control of his mind and senses, he might have been truly shocked. Wizard's magic did not normally emanate from their hands. As it was, he was too absorbed in the inexplicable emotions that flowed like a torrent in his fevered mind. The power, whatever it was, had not abated. It was aching to be used_. _Without conscious thought, Harry _pushed_ the magic out of his glowing hands and into the diamond. Like a firework, the stone virtually exploded with a fountain of white-hot light. At the same time, Harry felt it draining away from him. It was a curious sensation. It was satisfying, like scratching an itch, but at the same time left him wanting more. Harry scrambled to his feet and grabbed up another diamond from the table. Seconds later it too took on a radiant glow.

Charlus' portrait was apparently startled out of his study of Remus' spellwork by the sudden light bursting from the other side of the table. Looking at his nephew holding a glowing stone in his hands, he was was irritated at the youth's casual handling.

"Here now!" he exclaimed. "Don't you know better than to rub another man's rhubarb? You could hurt yourself. Or even worse, you could hurt me. Put that down, this instant!"

Harry didn't obey. He hadn't even seemed to hear his protestations. Charlus was about to let him have it again, when the boy set down the glowing diamond and snatched another one from the table. Charlus was shocked beyond belief when it too began to glow fiercely.

"Harry! What are you doing?" he cried. "Stop that. Harry! HARRY!"

But Harry didn't stop. He couldn't. Whatever force or power had Harry in its grip wouldn't rest until it had completed its purpose. In the blink of an eye, Harry grabbed up another, then another gem and soon the whole collection took on the same wondrous glow.

It was at this point that Remus completed his spell. Nearly spent from the exertion, he turned to see what all the commotion was about. He looked from Charlus to Harry just as Harry had grabbed up the last diamond. His mind boggled while he watched Harry charge the gem. What he was seeing was impossible. Not only was Harry performing magic far beyond his years, he was wandless! If that realization startled him, he was nearly floored when he noticed the three other obviously charged diamonds laying scattered on the table behind him.

When he recovered his wits, he rushed to Harry's side. Harry was unresponsive as he stood gazing into the gem's glowing depths. Calling his name also had no effect. Finally, he grabbed Harry by the shoulders and shook him.

"Harry! Snap out it!" he yelled.

Harry looked up, blinking owlishly at him behind his spectacles. "Remus? What's wrong?" He looked around. "I guess your finished then?" he asked sluggishly.

"What's wrong?" Remus asked incredulously. "What's wrong, Harry? Look down at your hands."

Harry looked down. His mage-sight had left him but he could still see the unmistakable glow from the diamond. He looked up at Remus with a sheepish expression. "Oh yeah, right. Pretty neat, huh?"

Remus sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

The discovery of Harry's remarkable talent was the sole topic of discussion around the house for the next several days. Neither Remus or Charlus could explain it. Harry was amused at first by their confusion, but later became irritated as they discussed him as if he were not even there. He was more than happy that he had solid proof that his magic hadn't abandoned him. He was also thrilled that he could accomplish what Remus obviously could not. Not only had he managed to imbue the diamonds, but he hadn't felt the weariness that followed Remus afterwards. If anything, he felt rather refreshed. And he had done four of them! He felt his accomplishment should be celebrated, not nitpicked to death!

Finally, Remus and Charlus came to the conclusion that his ability had been a product of the botched Deepening ritual. They couldn't understand the how or why of it, but they were determined to find out. First, Remus taught himself the diagnostic charm that Harry had learned. It took him less than an hour. Harry was a little put out that he had picked up the charm so quickly, but put it aside. The man was a full-grown wizard, after all, and was bound to pick up things quicker than a six year old child.

After he had mastered the charm, Remus had Harry stand in the middle of the room as the charm was cast on him. Both Remus and Charlus were astounded at what they found. Harry's core had indeed expanded and stabilized during the ritual. However, what they found was that it was unbounded. Remus explained that it existed, as any core would, in the center of Harry's chest. To Remus, it appeared to be a bright blue-white ball of slowly rotating energy. But instead of a being constrained, it expanded outward to cover Harry's entire body. It was more concentrated at his core and somewhat faded in the rest of his body. To say that Remus was speechless was an understatement. He stood mute for two whole minutes before Harry and Charlus could get him to respond and explain his findings.

Nothing they had ever read or heard described this as even remotely possible. Harry remembered seeing a similar effect in Tippy, but she hadn't had a core at all. They asked Harry to recall everything he could about what he experienced during the ritual. Both Harry and Remus were a little uncomfortable with their memories of that evening, but Harry complied. He explained to them his thoughts during the ritual and about the surge of foreign emotions he had felt at the end. He did his best with halting words, to explain the depth and power of these shifting emotions. Remus became more and more agitated as Harry described the feelings of rage and vengeance he had felt, but calmed down considerably when he described his experience with the unicorn and his unwitting healing of both it and Remus' wounds. Neither of them knew that Harry had performed such healing magics and both of them were somewhat agog at the implications. They asked him to describe, in agonizing detail, exactly how he felt before and after he had performed the magic.

"This is incredible!" Remus exclaimed when Harry finished his explanation.

"So, you know what happened to the boy?" Charlus asked.

"Not precisely, no. But I have a few ideas. Wait a minute!" Remus said, darting off into the kitchen.

"Do you have any idea what he's on about?" Harry asked the painting.

"Not the foggiest." Charlus replied. "You?"

"Nope. I think he's off his nut. I might have broke him. You reckon?" Harry replied.

Before Charlus could answer, Remus ran back in and dropped a book on the table. Harry immediately recognized his copy of _Harvest and Plenty_. Remus threw himself into his seat and immediately began thumbing through the pages. When he found what he wanted, he began to read. After a few minutes he pointed his hand at the words.

"Here it is! When I first found out about the ritual you were performing, I was curious. I never had much experience with this kind of magic and I wanted to see what you were attempting. When you told us your story, I remembered a passage from the book." Remus said in one uninterrupted breath.

"And?" Charlus asked indignantly.

"Remember the description of the druid who attempted the ritual and was interrupted by a raven flying into the circle?"

"Yes," Harry answered.

"I think that either Pippy, the unicorn or I must have interrupted your circle, Harry. You're magic must have been corrupted!"

"Corrupted?" Harry asked, a frown forming on his face. "What do you mean, corrupted?"

"Just that. I think your magic must have taken on some of the aspects of whatever creature breached the circle. In the druid's case, he took on the hunger that the raven possessed. This ritual imprints largely on the will of the foci. It would explain your emotional swings and the changes in your magic!" Remus explained.

"But the book didn't say anything about the druid's magic being affected." Charlus said. "Just his hunger for unicorn blood. What about that?"

Remus was undeterred. "But you see, hunger is probably the most potent aspect of a raven's personality, so that is what corrupted the caster's intent in the spell. But in Harry's case, the creatures involved were much different. When Harry first explained his feelings of rage, I was sure that I was the one to interrupt the ritual. I'm very familiar with those feelings myself while in my werewolf form." Remus explained with a growing frown on his face.

"So. You think I'm a w..w..werewolf?" Harry stuttered fearfully.

"What?" Remus exclaimed looking over at a frightened Harry. Remus immediately patted the boy on the shoulder. "No, of course not! Lycanthropy cannot be passed on that way. It's not merely a function of magic. There has to be an exchange of blood."

Harry sighed in relief. "Thank Merlin! You had me scared there for a minute."

Remus smiled in understanding. "I understand, believe me."

"So what happened to the boy, then?" Charlus asked.

"I was just getting to that. Like I said, when I first heard about Harry's rage, I was convinced that he had picked up on the werewolf's intent. It's strength too, if my memory is not very much mistaken."

Harry winced, remembering his reaction to Remus in the clearing.

"But when I heard about his feelings of love and protectiveness, I knew that couldn't be the case. Such feelings are quite different from anything I experience while in werewolf form. His healing, too, was completely different. I'm guessing that it was the unicorn that interrupted the ritual. Healing is one of their lesser known powers and they can be fierce, too." Remus said.

Harry just shook his head. So much of what Remus said made sense. His emotional swings and the healing had certainly been indicative that the unicorn may have influenced his ritual. But, Harry knew there was more. He had felt the unicorn's magic in that clearing. Now that he thought about it, he could clearly identify in his mind the instances where he had felt its influence. At the same time, there were other presences that were completely different from what he felt from her. The rage, for instance, could never be confused with the unicorn's goodly presence. Thinking harder about Remus' explanation, Harry could also identify at least one other feeling that seemed different from the other two. The feelings of love and protectiveness he had felt first in the clearing could have come from the unicorn, but Harry didn't think so. The feelings he remembered felt different….more personal, somehow. That was the best he could describe it. He had felt something similar when he had charged the stones. It hadn't felt like the unicorn's presence at all.

"Could more than one creature have influenced the ritual?" Harry asked.

Remus looked doubtfully at Harry. "I suppose," he said. "But the chances are slim. That one such event occurred beggars explanation, but two….I don't think so. Why do you ask?" Remus replied.

Harry explained his reasoning and Remus could find no fault with it. That's not to say he was convinced, but he didn't write it off, either. Harry was glad. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was right. Somehow he had acquired attributes from Tippy, the unicorn and Remus that night. It was the only explanation that fit. It pleased him in a way. Not the werewolf's involvement or even the unicorn's, although the healing skill was pretty neat, but Tippy's. It meant he would always carry a piece of her with him. In a way, she had never really died, at all.

The next few days were extremely busy for Harry and Remus. With the gemstones fully charged, they set about measuring their discharge rate. After that it was a relatively simple matter to calculate the precise placement the stones would need to create the null field. Harry still understood very little of the calculations but watched and questioned Remus as he worked and was able to learn a little of the art. Next, he and Remus built supports for the diamonds. Five of the diamonds would be placed at the pentacles of a five pointed star that had to be sized to precise measurements. After that, one stone was placed above the construction, while one sat underneath. The person or persons who stood within the shielded area would have to stand on a platform that stood exactly three and 1/16 feet off from the floor. When they had completed the project it would create a perfectly spherical null field. The only thing left to do was inscribe the glyph on the diamonds, but Harry and Remus decided to wait to finish that step. As soon as it was done, the diamonds would activate. They wanted to find a safe area, well away from the Manor's wards, before the undertook that crucial step.

In the evenings, Harry and Remus (with Charlus' sometimes helpful commentary) tried to access Harry's magic. Several hours' frustration later, Harry was still unable to use his wand. Remus' wand worked no better. As best they could figure it, Harry's lack of a distinct core prohibited him from wand use. In some ways, Harry's magic was more similar to a magical creature than a typical wizard. Harry was not pleased about that, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Remus speculated that Harry might be able to get better results from a wand with a sympathetic core, like unicorn tail hairs, but without such a wand, it was only a guess. They also tried to consciously access the wandless magic that he had previously displayed.

This was also a quite frustrating process for Harry. They had tried everything they could think of, with no effect. Remus had even gone so far as to cut himself, in hopes that Harry would somehow manifest the power to heal, but all he gotten from the experiment was a bloody hand.

They theorized that the magic was emotionally driven, which made a lot of sense. Underage wizards, for instance, often performed accidental magic in moments of high emotion. Many magical creatures also gained strength from the power of their emotions. Werewolves had their rage and territoriality, phoenix's had magical tears. They had no idea if house elves performed emotion based magic, but they both knew them to be highly emotional creatures. It stood to reason that other creatures would have similar responses. Even some of the more powerful spells that wizards could cast were driven by emotions. The _Patronus _Charm, and the _Cruciatus_ and killing curses were just a few examples. Obviously, the dark curses were not something that could or should be experimented with. Both Harry and Remus agreed that the darker side of Harry's emotional surges were best left alone, at least for the time being. But, the _Patronus_ Charm seemed like a likely candidate to try to experiment with.

As the charm was driven by happy memories, Harry tried his best to dredge up his happiest memories and see if they illicited any sort of emotional response. He had many happy memories in his young life. His happiest times were the games that Harry and Tippy had played at some pretended adventure in the forest or reading stories around the hearth. Harry had no trouble focusing on those times and indeed his heart was filled with joy as he remembered those fond times. But all those memories also came with a bitter note as he couldn't help but think of all he had lost with Tippy's death.

Try as he did, none of those memories elicited any sort of response from Harry's magic. He tried to cast the spell, both with his wand and without, to no success. Remus wasn't sure if his wandless abilities would require an incantation be used or if Harry should just visualize the effect he wanted.

Remus conjured his own _Patroni_, which took the shape of an ephemeral wolf, for Harry to study. Seeing it didn't do anything to help Harry focus on happy memories. It only brought up further thoughts of Tippy's unhappy end. Remus felt bad for Harry and for his unwitting role in his troubles. He wanted to discuss Harry's thoughts and feelings on the matter, especially as they impacted his emotional state, but Harry didn't want to talk about it. Remus suggested Charlus as a possible outlet, but Harry could just imagine how such a conversation would go. Probably end in Charlus telling Harry to 'grow a pair' or something equally helpful. All in all, Harry was quite frustrated.

At length, they decided that Harry's magic was reactive and more instinctual than directed. What this meant, as near as Harry could tell, was that he was screwed. Remus recommended that Harry keep a record of every time his power manifested itself, making sure to note the situation and thoughts that had he had experienced at the time. Remus felt that if they could understand what triggered the events, then they could try to duplicate them. Remus also resolved to visit some of the second-hand shops in Diagon Alley and try to locate a unicorn hair wand for Harry to experiment with.

On a more positive note, the null field apparatus was coming along nicely. The diamonds proved to be well matched and they could find no barriers to successful deployment. Remus had scouted locations nearby that would be suitable to give it a test run. Godric's Hollow had a significant enough magical population that any spells cast in the countryside would not raise any eyebrows at the Ministry. After some extensive legwork on Remus' part, they located a small farm on the outskirts of town that would be ideal.

When the time came for the test, Harry had to throw a bit of a tantrum to get permission from his two self-appointed guardians to witness the event. Neither of them was very sympathetic to his arguments, but went along just to shut him up. Harry was thrilled. For him, any excuse to get out of the Manor was a good one. But, as the one who had made the discovery, Harry felt he had a vested interest in its outcome.

In preparation, Harry had created wardstones similar to the ones he had used before. These would help to conceal their presence from anyone wandering by. Harry dragged these and the support braces down to the lawn so that Remus could shrink them down for transport.

The test went off without a hitch. Remus had apparated Harry and their gear to the clearing and Harry had set the apparatus up according to the specifications. In the meantime, Remus had circumscribed the area with the wardstones and had also cast anti-apparation and anti-portkey jinxes to the area. While they weren't nearly as strong as the wards surrounding Azkaban, they would still demonstrate if the null field could bypass the protections.

When they had completed their preparations, Harry removed himself from the area that would be effected by the null field. The field itself would only draw magic from an area of about a twenty square meters. Remus had the difficult part of the exercise. He used his wand to inscribe each stone with the inversed glyph. When every stone was marked he stood in the center. To Harry's eye there was no immediate effect.

Focusing on his mage-sight, which came easier to Harry after extended use, he studied the field. He couldn't detect any emanations from the stones, but he did see a curious haze that surrounded the apparatus and grew thicker as it neared the apparatus. The stones themselves were almost completely obscured by the fog. Harry could only guess that what he was seeing was the negative presence of magic. His ponderings were interrupted by Remus' raised voice.

"What do you see, Harry?" he asked.

"I think it's working. The area is all hazy and I can't see any kind of aura, at all." Harry replied.

"Makes sense, I guess." Remus replied after a moment's thought. "The author hadn't had any mage-sight, so we really know what it's supposed to look like. Okay. Commencing test."

Following his words, Remus readied his wand and cast a levitation charm on one of the stones. The spell left his wand normally, but as it neared the stone it winked out of existence. Otherwise, it had no effect at all. Next, Remus took a small rock from his pocket. With a flick of his wand, he banished the rock toward a spot that was equidistant from two of the diamonds. Just like the levitation spell, the rock travelled rapidly in the direction it was aimed, but as soon as it reached the field it quickly lost momentum and fell to the ground. This proved that the field was working as advertised. It also proved that it had no real affect of the composition of material objects, only the magic that was effecting them. It also proved that it was possible to cast spells within the center of the field.

Having completed the early trials, Remus proceeded with the last and most crucial step in the test; apparition. The book had claimed that a null field would allow for apparition within a warded area, but it was one thing to read it and another to risk life and limb based on its testimony. Initially, Harry was skeptical that it would work. He reasoned that even if you apparate within the protected center of a field, you would still have to cross the boundary where the spell would be nullified. Remus had explained that apparition, unlike portkeys, did not travel through space but instead transferred from one space to another. When Harry was still confused, he explained that if one were to attempt to apparate into a warded area, the ward would not prevent the apparition, but would prevent the person from arriving inside the ward. The result would be the redirection of the energy to the nearest unwarded area, probably resulting in a splinching. Portkeys, on the other hand, travelled across the space that connected the origination and terminus of the travel area. Because it created a spacial link between locations, it couldn't be initiated into a warded area. The explanation did little to clear up the confusion in Harry's mind, but he was content to trust in the knowledge of the more experienced wizard.

When he was ready to make the attempt, Remus took a moment to prepare himself. Taking a deep breath, he twirled in place, disappearing from the center and immediately appearing next to Harry in the clearing.

"You did it!" Harry exclaimed with a huge grin.

"It would seem so." Remus replied patting himself down to check for any missing parts. Satisfied, he returned Harry's grin.

"How did it feel?" Harry asked.

"Just the same as always. I don't think the field had any affect, at all."

"Wow. Just….wow." Harry said.

"I know. This is an enormous breakthrough. I can't imagine why this isn't more widely known. I can think of so many applications. I'm guessing that it must have been surpressed by the Ministry. It would be typical of them to try to keep this kind of thing from the public."

"Probably not too keen on the whole ward-breaking thing." Harry replied.

"Yeah. But still. Almost any spell has illegal uses. To suppress an entire field of study just to prevent a few bad actors…" Remus said.

"Like us, you mean?" Harry replied with a grin.

"Even so. It still seems like they're being a little short-sighted." Remus sighed.

"They're a bunch of bloody plonkers, is what they are." Harry said, slapping Remus on the arm.

Remus smiled back at him, enjoying the moment of camaraderie with his best friend's son. So much of the time, his interactions with Harry were tainted by Harry's obvious discomfort around him. Remus tried hard not to let it bother him. He was well used to the feeling. He hoped and prayed Harry would eventually overcome those feelings, but he was still grateful for the brief reprieve.

"So, what's next?" Harry asked.

"Next we wait for the field to dissipate. I've set up a timer to see how long it lasts. As soon as the diamond's are fully charged from the ambient magic, the field will collapse. Then we disassemble it and hide it somewhere nearby." Remus replied.

"And then?" Harry prompted.

Remus' grin faded as he considered the question. "And then we pay a visit to an old friend."

"Adventure and mayhem?" Harry asked with an all to familiar gleam in his eye. It was a look that Remus was had seem many times on Harry's father's face. The look filled his heart with bitter-sweet memories and something else; a feeling that he had half forgotten in his long years of guilt and isolation….hope.

"It seems to be in order, don't you think?" Remus answered.

"Uncle Charlus will be so proud…"


	11. The Masquerade

Chapter 11; The Masquerade

After disassembling the contraption, Remus apparated Harry back to the Manor and filled an eagerly waiting portrait in on their success. Charlus was very pleased. After congratulations were passed around, the three of them gathered around the table to discuss their plans.

Charlus, it turned out, was a natural schemer and had a head for planning. He also had an abundance of free time, or as he put it, "Shit-all else to do." So, naturally he took the lead in their discussions. Within his frame, he sat, ensconced in his favorite chair and riffled through various papers that he had drawn up as an outline for their scheme. Where he had gotten the papers or how he had managed to write on them was a wonder to Harry. Seemingly, it was just a part of the maddening magic behind wizarding potraits. However it was accomplished, Charlus had taken exhaustive notes. When he found whatever information he was looking for, the portrait outlined the plan.

"So, if Wolfie here is to be believed," he said, giving Remus a look that conveyed a good deal of skepticism, "Sirius is housed in the lowest level of the prison."

At Remus' nod, he continued. "Obviously, Remus cannot go as himself. If Sirius is discovered missing so soon after a visit from a long-time friend, it would obviously raise questions that would do not want asked. To get around this we will have to polyjuice Remus so that he is not recognized. He will also have to be polyjuiced when he applies for a visitor's pass at the Ministry. Luckily for us, neither the Ministry nor the prison tests for polyjuice, so we should be fine there. Remus will also have to acquire a throw away wand, as he obviously cannot check his own at either location. If there is one thing that the Ministry is adept at, it is the wand registry. They don't, however, check the wands against the registry unless they are given a reason to do so. By the time they realize that Sirius has escaped and check the visitor's log, Remus will be long gone and the wand he checked will lead them nowhere. Are there any questions?"

With a shake of Harry and Remus' head, he continued. "So, the next question becomes how to smuggle our materials into the prison undetected and how to shield them from affecting the wards until the proper time. Our esteemed Mr. Newton had a similar problem. He discovered that a simple lead box could block the gem's effects, so that part is easily remedied. That leaves us with getting the diamonds and the supports inside undetected as well as setting them up."

"Couldn't he just wear them as a part of some jewelery? They'd never think to look at six little diamonds." Harry asked.

Charlus leveled a gimlet eye at the interruption. "Use that clump of manure you call a head for a second, boy! As soon as he crossed the ward boundary, the stones would immediately start to draw power. How long do you think it would be before they noticed and locked down the prison? No longer than your wee prick, is the answer! Now keep your trap shut and your ears open and you may learn something, for once!"

"At least I have one…" Harry mumbled intelligibly, ending with something that sounded suspiciously like "painted eunuch."

"Now, if there are no more asinine questions from the ignorant whelp over there, I can continue. Where was I?"

"Something about your regard for small penises, I believe." Remus chuckled helpfully.

"Shut it you! Oh yes. As I was saying, we need to determine the best method for smuggling the items in. The diamonds, I believe, pose little problem. Remus already proved that items can be smuggled in the muggle way, without magic. If they are shielded within a lead box, they won't be detectable. The supports, however, pose a much more difficult puzzle. One I believe I have solved." With this revelation, Charlus leaned back in his chair and adopted a look of great satisfaction.

After several long moments of silence, Harry couldn't withhold his exasperation. "Well? Go on then! What's the answer?"

Remus too seemed very curious of the response because he shifted forward in his seat, his eyes intent upon the painting.

Charlus took it all in stride, giving off an air that such expectant attention was his natural due. When he had milked the moment for all it was worth without eliciting another explosion from Harry, he continued.

"String." He said.

"String?" Remus asked scratching his chin in thought. Harry was more verbose.

"String! After all your notes and carrying on, the best you can come up with is string? Unbelievable!" He huffed.

"Don't take that tone with me, you little toe-rag!" Charlus shouted. "You haven't the wit to even grasp the merest wisp of my genius."

"A mere wisp is all we'd find, right Remus?" Harry asked, looking to the man for support.

"It could work." Remus said thoughtfully.

"Of course it won't wor….wait….what?" Harry spluttered.

"It could work!" Remus exclaimed. "Instead of wooden supports, we hang the diamonds from the ceiling in their proper spacing. We wouldn't need to smuggle the supports in. All we would need is a little bit of string!" He finished, giving Charlus a look of admiration. "It's brilliant!"

The look on Harry's face during his declaration was equal parts respect and indignation. Both Harry and Charlus loved to goad one another and it was obvious that Harry had been robbed of his prize, much the painting's delight. To Harry's consternation, it was a good idea. A few yards of string could easily be concealed as lacing or some other contrivance, whereas the guards might look askance at someone visiting the prison toting large scraps of lumber on their back. He was just about ready to give up in defeat when a thought occurred to him.

"So how are we supposed to hang the string from the ceiling?" Harry asked with a triumphant look on his face.

Charlus brushed the thought aside with a careless wave of his painted hand. "Bah. Have ye never heard of glue? Nothing magical about it."

"Would it hold?" Harry asked.

"Since the diamonds don't need to be enlarged to function, their weight is practically nil. The string itself would almost certainly weight more than the diamonds." Remus replied.

"Well there you go. Once again, Charlus Potter saves the day." The painting bragged, leaning back cockily in his overstuffed chair.

Harry rolled his eyes as he stood up from the table. Remus moved to follow. "Oh yes. Your adeptitude knows no bounds." Harry said.

"Good to see you recognize it, my boy." Charlus answered.

While Harry and Remus walked to the kitchen to get a well deserved snack, Remus leaned over and whispered to Harry.

"Is that even a word?"

Harry just laughed. It was a good day. With luck, the days ahead would be even better. Soon, Sirius Black would be free.

Just after daybreak, Harry arose early. He had never been a late sleeper. Tippy's early morning activity in their small home ensured that. But, ever since the ritual, Harry had been filled with a strange sort of energy. In recent days, it had only grown more pronounced. Harry wasn't sure if it was another unforeseen side effect of the ritual or if it was just his excitement over the prospect of meeting his Godfather for the first time. Whatever the cause, Harry felt a constant need to be up and doing something. Bouncing out of bed, he made his way to the kitchen and fixed himself some toast and a pot of tea for his breakfast. He made extra, for he knew Remus would be awoken by the smell of tea brewing and would soon arrive on the scene. Not content to sit still, Harry decided the best use of his time, in absence of any real work to do, was to do a spot of reading.

Since encountering the _Beginners Guide to Burglary,_ Harry had been entranced with the idea of artificing. Perhaps due to his success at imbuing the gems or with any youngster's innate desire for invention, Harry felt a desperate need to learn more of this magical craft. He had already identified several tomes dedicated to the art that he was anxious to study, so he made his way to the library and ensconced himself in a reading chair with a small pile of books in his lap. The first book, a rather weighty volume bound in dusty red leather, particularly caught his eye. It rather looked like a textbook to Harry. It was filled with various devices that had been created by famous artificers throughout history. Harry looked at the publisher's page and discovered that it had been published in 1893. For the Potter library, Harry knew, that was a relatively recent publication. It was entitled simply _an Introduction to Artificing by Willhelmina Marchbanks. _Harry turned to the first chapter. It was a brief summary of the craft.

_Artificing by its very nature, is a highly practical art. It primarily concerns itself with the creation of artifacts, as the name implies. The nature of the creation is open to much interpretation. Artificing can involve the application of charms, curses, enchantments, alchemy or any number of other disciplines. There is no set way for an artificer to practice his art. Instead, it requires only the ingenuity and power of the artisan. Make no mistake, it is an art. A skilled artificer can create works of magic that can be beautiful or unseemly, rarities or commonplace objects, works of inherent goodness or unspeakable evil and everything in between._

_The principal and overarching theme in the art is that it imbues in an object an inherent and inseparable magical nature. An artificement is, by definition, a permanent creation. Because the artifact is imbued with its own magic, it cannot expire. It can be destroyed, yes, but its magic cannot be spent. That is how it differs from simple enchantments or charms that can wear down over time or be easily dispelled.._

_How is this accomplished? There are many answers to that question that lie within these pages. The most impressive and perhaps most powerful _

_Works in this field, often result in the seeming sentience of the artifact. You may note the use of the word 'seeming'. Well you should. Many of history's most prominent artificers have asked themselves that very question. Are such artifacts truly sentient? The short answer to that question is 'we don't know.' Perhaps the more apt answer is, 'does it really matter?' If, after all, it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, who really cares. The famous arithmancer DesCartes famously said, 'I think, therefore I am.' It seems a fair test. However, putting such philosophic wonderings aside, we instead devote ourselves to the learning of this most noble art._

Harry was truly fascinated. His mind was abuzz with excitement as he rapidly turned the pages, scanning the various and fascinating creations from some of history's most noted wizards and witches. He saw strange bowls, called pensieves, that were meant to store and view memories. He saw cauldrons that could brew their own potions and swords that could fight and tell crude jokes. He read about ancient creations, like the famous Hogwarts sorting hat, that was capable of reading minds and communicating telepathically. Hats, in particular, were a common theme.

It seemed wizards were inordinately fond of their hats. Many of them could talk and some offered protection against attacks on the mind or body. Some could improve memory or even calm emotions or heal wounds. Harry was immediately intrigued by this idea. He wondered if it was possible to create a hat that could stop his own emotional outbursts. At first it seemed a reasonable goal, until Harry realized that without the emotional magic, he wasn't able to perform any magic at all.

Nevertheless, Harry found many objects outlined in the book that would be very helpful to someone without control of their own magic. Harry even found an entire section on crystals and gems that described how objects could be used to duplicate the effects of wanded spells. Harry made a note to study that section in greater detail later. He figured, and rightly so, that if his success at charging the diamonds could be carried over into this area, it would go a long way toward overcoming his inability to use a wand.

After several hours of reading, Harry's eyes became strained and he was forced to set aside his studying for another time. Since Remus was likely up by now, Harry wanted to meet up with him and go over the plan a final time.

As Harry had predicted, Remus was drinking tea at the kitchen table when Harry walked in. They exchanged greetings. Remus asked Harry what he had been up to so early in the morning. Remus was constantly amazed at Harry's early morning enthusiasm. Apparently, Harry's father, and Remus himself, had generally viewed mornings as a thing to be tolerated, at best. Harry filled him in on his fascinating discoveries and his thoughts about how they might be put to use. Before he had finished his explanation, Harry could tell that Remus shared his enthusiasm.

"That's a great idea, Harry!" he said. "There have been a great many wizards who enhanced and focused their power with enchanted objects. Artificing is one of those skills that rely much more heavily on creativity and cleverness than on power. The Marauders dabbled in some of that. It's hard and tedious work, but it's definitely worth the effort. Has Charlus ever told you about the Marauder's Map?"

Harry thought about it. "Was that the map of Hogwarts? The one that showed where everyone was in the castle?" He asked.

"Yes. But it did a lot more than that!" Remus said with obvious relish. "It was tied directly into the magic of the castle's wards. It showed all the updated passwords and could even respond to limited questions from the user. It took us the better part of a year to perfect it. In the end, I think it must have had over a dozen enchantments on it. The runes and charms, by themselves, could have earned any one of us an OWL, if we were so inclined. None of the spellwork was new, per se, but I think we managed to combine some charms and rune work in ways that's never been seen before!"

"Wow! Do you think you can show me how you did it?" Harry asked.

"Of course! It may take me a while to work out all the steps, but I still remember the basics. Between Sirius and I, we could probably recreate it without too much trouble."

"That would be great. I don't need a map, not really. I'm more interested in how you linked the enchantments with the wards. Marchbanks' book said that is the most crucial step in artificing. Did you use linking runes? How did you connect the map to the wards?" Harry asked in a rush.

Remus chuckled at Harry's obvious enthusiasm. "Easy there, Harry! Remember to breathe! That's good. Now, as to your question. Yes, we did use linking runes. We didn't have access to the wardkey, obviously. Its location is the most closely guarded secret at Hogwarts. Instead, we linked the map with the portraits themselves. At first we just wanted to have access to the passwords, but we soon found that it had a beneficial side-effect. We didn't know it at the time, but at Hogwarts, the portraits that guard the dormitories are tied directly into the wards. That way, if the school is ever attacked, they can be sealed. By linking the map to the portraits, we got tied into the wards themselves."

"How did that effect the map?" Harry asked.

"It wasn't anything we noticed at first. It wasn't until it was confiscated by Professor McGonagall that we first began to get suspicious." Remus answered.

"Why? What Happened?"

"As I remember it, she caught us huddled around it one afternoon following the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match. We were trying to find out if Margritte Entwistle and Broomhilde Stark were in the showers. You see, there was this rumor going around that…." Remus interrupted his story, giving Harry a sheepish grin. "Never mind that. Maybe when your older. Anyway, we were clustered up together under the stands, looking at the map, when she shows up out of nowhere. Luckily, we were able to clear the map or things would have gone much worse. As it was, she confiscated the map which looked just like any other piece of parchment. She knew it was more than it seemed. When she cast a revealing spell on it, we were all scared witless, let me tell you! Imagine her surprise, and ours, when instead of the map appearing, writing appeared on it instead!"

"What did it say?" Harry asked.

"If I remember right, it thanked her for her kind attention and asked her, very pointedly, to keep her furry little nose out of our business." Remus deadpanned.

"Oh my!" Harry laughed. "She can't have been best pleased with that! What did she do?"

"A detention for each of us and ten points to Gryffindor for a well-placed charm, I believe it was."

"What?! You can't be serious!" Harry blurted.

"McGonagall is one of a kind, bless her. She always had a soft spot for the Marauders."

"I'll say." Harry said. "So that's how you found out about it being tied to the wards?"

"That was the first clue. What really clinched it was when an Acromantula found its way into the school from the forest. Dumbledore sounded the alarm and evacuated everyone to their dorms. When we looked at the map, a large warning scrolled across the page. That was when we knew, for sure, what we had done."

"Remus Lupin. The accidental artificer." Harry chuckled. "Maybe you should write a book."

Remus appeared to give it some thought. "Maybe I should, at that. The names would have to be changed. You know…to protect the guilty."

Two long, interminable weeks passed as they waited to receive a visitor's pass to Azkaban prison. Remus had given considerable thought to who he would borrow a hair from to complete his polyjuice impersonation. They wanted someone who was either above reproach or someone whom they didn't care about, if implicated. This was easier said than done. The majority of the people that Remus and Charlus could think of that were above suspicion, were all people that travelled outside of Remus' social circles. He had some passing acquaintances among the aurors, mostly from his service with the Order of the Phoenix, but Remus was extremely reluctant to implicate any of them.

On the other hand, many of the unsavory types that Remus knew who either former deatheaters or sympathizers whom Remus really didn't want associated with Sirius' name. He agonized on it for some time before Charlus eventually reminded him that Sirius was already sentenced to prison for murder and for being a supporter of Voldemort. Any further association with deatheaters was hardly going to tarnish his reputation.

Eventually they decided that Lucius Malfoy was the perfect target for their purposes. He had certainly been a deatheater. There was no doubt about that. Even if he had avoided prison, it was well known that his claims of being under the _Imperius_ curse were nothing more than inventive fiction. He was also frequently seen around the Ministry and Diagon Alley. Acting, for all the world to see, as some feudal baron, lording over his domain. That was why Remus found himself on a cold November morning, loitering outside the Ministry offices, waiting for Lucius Malfoy to arrive.

They were certain that he would show. According to the _Daily Prophet, _the Malfoy family had donated 100,000 galleons to the long term care ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. In honor of his largesse, the Current Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had scheduled a press conference in the Ministry atrium, to praise the Malfoy patriarch for the sizeable contribution.

Remus had argued that someone as connected as Malfoy was likely to have private floo access to the Ministry so that they could travel without unnecessary contact with the unwashed masses. Charlus had allowed that was likely the case preceding the ceremony, but that following it, men like Lucius Malfoy were likely to want to press the flesh and be congratulated by the admiring public. Remus was far less educated on typical pureblood customs, so he deferred to Charlus' greater wisdom. For his part, Harry figured if anyone would know about being a self promoting blowhard, it was likely Charlus.

That was why Remus stood in a thin and threadbare jacket in the cold, darkened vestibule just off the main thoroughfare in Diagon Alley, watching quietly for the pale blond hair and aristocratic mien that would identify his target. For two hours Remus stood there, until he became sure that his feet had taken root. Just to prove himself wrong, he occasionally stamped his cold feet on the cobbled pavement. The crowd was middling, at best. The shoppers and Ministry workers made their way quickly to and from their destinations, hoping to avoid the dismal weather. As a werewolf, Remus was far more inured to the chill than an average wizard, but even so, he was far from comfortable.

Just as he was about to give in, sure in his conviction that Malfoy had escaped through the floo, he heard the unmistakably pompous tone of his target. Lucius was strolling down the throughfare, seemingly without a care in the world. His tall, lean frame elegantly clad in well tailored robes. He was not alone. To his left walked the Minister Fudge who was chatting away, unaware or uncaring of this subtle look of disdain upon Malfoy's face. Following the pair was an odious looking woman, who appeared to be some sort of clerk or assistant to the Minister. Her toad-like face held a look of rapt attention, as though she were witnessing some Delphic revelation, rather than the incessant ramblings of the rotund Minister of Magic.

Seizing the opportunity, Remus surreptitiously pulled his wand and aimed it at Malfoy. "Accio hair!" he whispered. Nothing happened. "Accio Malfoy's hair!" He tried again with a similar lack of results. Remus sighed. It was just his luck. Malfoy obviously had some sort of anti-summoning charm about his person. _Plan B it is, then, _he thought.

With long, hurried strides he crossed the street, pulling a paperback book out of his pocket as he went. Pretending to be immersed in the book, he scurried along on an intercept course for the Malfoy scion. Ducking his head, he barreled into the man, knocking him backward into the Minister and sending them both to the ground in a tangle of thrashing arms and legs.

"I do say! What's the meaning of this?!" He bellowed, trying to right his portly frame. Remus almost laughed at the sight of the Minister of Magic lying on the street with his legs sticking up in the air. Any thoughts of merriment were lost, however, by the cold and murderous look that covered Malfoy's face.

"I'm so sorry!" Remus exclaimed. "I didn't see you there. Do forgive me, where are my manners?" Remus leaned over the scowling pureblood and before he could protest, seized him by the arm and pulled him to his feet.

"Unhand me this instant!" Malfoy demanded. Remus was undeterred. In a blink he reached down and similarly helped the Minister to his feet. All the while, his assistant stood aghast, her face frozen in a look of surprise and horror.

"My good man!" the Minister said. "Do watch where your going. It is unseemly to run around the street like some mindless savage."

"Indeed." Malfoy sneered, looking down at Remus' shabby attire.

To all witnesses, Remus appeared to pay no mind, or even hear, their words of disdain. Despite Malfoy's admonition, Remus continued to lay hands on him, attempting to brush off dirt from his expensive robes.

"Oh dear!" He fussed. "This will never do! Look here how I've mussed up your robes. Not to worry, we'll have you fixed in a jiff!"

Lucius did his best to fend off Remus' attempts to smooth his ruffled robes, but was thoroughly unsuccessful. Finally he reached his breaking point and physically forced Remus away with an outstretched arm. "Enough!" He barked. "I think I've been manhandled quite enough for one day!"

"Oh, yes." Remus replied, adopting a rather apologetic expression. "Many pardons, governor. I can't think what came over me. I do hope you haven't been too badly damaged."

"Yes, well." Malfoy sniffed, "Perhaps a…..person," he drawled, giving Remus a look that conveyed he wasn't convinced Remus deserved such an appellation, "such as yourself, would do better to watch where he is treading."

"Oh, I will sir, I will. Always mind your betters my old mam used to say. Well I better be off. Don't won't to take up any more of your valuable time. Good day governors, madam." He said with a bow to the Minister and his assistant.

"To you as well." The Minister replied jovially, quite recovered from his fall.

As Remus walked away, he heard the Minister say. "He was a right bonny lad, if a bit eager. Wouldn't you say, Lucius?"

"If you insist, Minister." Lucius replied.

As Remus made his getaway, he pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wrapped it around a long, blond hair, before placing it back in his pocket. With a spring in his step and whistling a merry tune, Remus made his way back to the apparition point.

When he arrived back at Potter manor, Remus was heartily congratulated. The length of the hair he had liberated from Malfoy's coat was quite sufficient for their purposes. By their reckoning, it would supply enough source material for several doses of polyjuice. Remus and Charlus figured that it could come in quite handy in the future.

The hair procured, Remus was determined to get the process started as soon as possible. He figured that it was best to make his application at the Ministry immediately, because it was the one time he was assured that Lucius would not be present. It wouldn't be pleasant to encounter Lucius while bearing his likeness, after all. Dropping a portion of the liberated hair into the potion, he watched as it changed a dirty golden color. As soon as it settled, he pinched his nose and downed it in a single draft.

"Ugh, that's foul. Malfoy tastes like old socks." He complained. His grimace only intensified as his muscles and bones began to shift beneath his skin. His nose narrowed slightly and his hair lengthened and changed from short, mousy brown to long, blonde, almost white. His body also changed as his waste shrunk and his hips and chest took on a shapely curve. After a minute, Harry and Charlus could only look on in shock as Remus' kindly appearance grew into the haughty and attractive semblance of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Well, this is unexpected." Charlus drawled.

Remus walked over to the standing mirror while Harry could only nod in agreement. "Is that Mrs. Malfoy?" Harry asked.

Remus peered at himself in the mirror. "Yes." He answered in a high, delicate voice.

Harry joined him in front of the mirror, studying his newfound appearance. Narcissa Malfoy was a comely woman, by any definition. She had high cheekbones, a patrician nose and a full, shapely mouth. Her figure was slim, but well rounded in all the right places. Harry had little experience with girls and even less with grown women, but even he could tell that she was a regal beauty. Against his will, his eyes were drawn to her ample cleavage, straining against the fabric of Remus' cotton shirt. When Remus caught his stare in the mirror, he couldn't help but needle the curious youth.

"See something you like, Harry?" He asked.

Harry blushed. "Well, she is rather nice looking, isn't she?" He asked.

Remus returned his gaze to the mirror. "I dare say she is. The Black women were always that, even if a little….unstable." Remus replied.

"Black? You don't mean…"

"I do, indeed." Remus answered. "Narcissa is Sirius' cousin. She was a few years ahead of us in school. She and Sirius never really got along. She was always a bit haughty and arrogant, even back then. All of the Blacks were, of course. Even Sirius showed those tendencies from time to time. He grew out of it, of course. Mostly." Remus smiled at the thought.

"Oh….kay." Harry replied. "So where does this leave us?" He asked.

"Quite well, in fact. Actually better off, if anything. Narcissa has an even better reason to visit Sirius in prison, them being cousins. Plus Narcissa has fewer friends in the Ministry and if anything, is even less approachable than Lucius. Few people would accost her in public, I'm sure."

"So, we're still on then?"

"Of course!" Remus was quick to answer. "Although a change of wardrobe might be in order." Remus frowned. "Come to think of it, that might pose a bit of a problem. Women's fashions have never been something I paid attention to. Not sure if I can transfigure these into something that would be believable. Hmmm…"

"There are all kinds of gowns and things upstairs!" Harry blurted.

"Of course! Brilliant thinking, Harry. I'll just nip off and grab something suitably elegant. They might be a bit old-fashioned, but the Potter women always had exquisite taste, if I remember rightly."

"I can help." Harry said enthusiastically. Remus looked at his charge and chuckled.

"I don't think so, Harry. I'm not sure Narcissa would appreciate being ogled by a prepubescent boy."

"Oh, right." Harry said, a rosy blush returning to his cheeks. Sheepishly, he looked at Remus. "It was worth a shot, wasn't it?"

Remus laughed and ruffled Harry's hair before rushing upstairs in search ladies' apparel.

"I'll be back in a jiff!" He called over his shoulder. "Don't wait up!"

"Damnation!" Harry mumbled to himself. "Never get to do anything fun!"

Huffing at the injustice that was his life, Harry grabbed his book from the table and threw himself into his chair to wait for the werewolf's return.

Remus' visit to the Ministry of Magic went off without a hitch. In the guise of Narcissa Malfoy, he had made made an application for visition rights. The clerks in the office had bent over backwards to hasten the request, very much opposed to Remus' first visit to the office. Being a Malfoy, it seemed, was not without its perks. He was assured that the pass would be processed with all due haste and that the pass would be owled to him at the Malfoy estate. Thinking quickly, Remus had informed the groveling clerk that it was unnecessary as he(she) would be vacationing in the south of France and inaccessible by owl. Instead, he arranged to be revisit the Ministry in a week and pick it up at that time.

He arrived back at Potter Manor just as the potion was wearing off. Changing back into his normal clothes, he found Harry once more pouring over the book on artificing. Harry looked up as he entered the room.

"How'd it go?" He asked.

"Without a hitch. Should be ready next week." Remus replied. "What are you up to?"

"I found this really interesting chapter on runic portals." Harry answered. "Have you ever heard of Finn's portal?"

Remus frowned in thought. "I don't think so. What is it?"

"It's great. It's based on a young Futhark four rune base. You see?" Harry said, turning the book toward Remus.

Remus dragged up another chair and bent over the text. "It seems like a simple construct. Let's see. I recognize those, I think. Elgaz…Ornai…that's 'home' and 'travel', isn't it."

"Yes. Also ehwaz for security and drazul for a 'great journey.' Harry enthused.

"How is it anchored?" Remus asked, intrigued.

Harry pulled the book to himself and ran a finger along the page. "It says here that it's anchored on both ends by the same rune set. The caster has to add a runic representation for themselves in the center and then activate the runes. If done correctly, it opens a portal between the two locations. The best part is the ehwaz prevents anyone but the caster from seeing the portal!"

"That is clever. I remember it now. That, or something very similar, is what guards the entrance to platform 9 and ¾ at King's Cross Station."

"Really? It must be great to be able to see all the great magic that's out there." Harry said with a wistful expression.

Remus frowned. Harry shouldn't have to sit cooped up in his Manor, learning about the magical world from musty old books. Children his age should be out and about, learning and experiencing the world first hand. He didn't understand why Charlus had believed that Harry had to be cloistered away like some medieval friar. Harry needed protection, sure, anonymity even. He could understand that, even if he didn't like it. But Harry hadn't been seen in public since he was a baby. He was presumed dead. No one would recognize him or pay him any mind, if he was careful. While he did bear a striking resemblance to his father, even the most rudimentary disguise would keep him from prying eyes. The more Remus thought about it, the more he became convinced that he was right. He WOULD get Harry out more, to experience what life had to offer. He was sure that Sirius would agree with him on that.

"Portals are fascinating works of magic." Remus told him. "Most of the inherently magical places have some form of them, especially if they closely intersect the magical world. Diagon Alley has a brick wall that transfigures itself into an arched entryway when it's activated. The Ministry of Magic even has a muggle style telephone booth that turns into a lift that carries you to the atrium."

"Really? A telephone booth? Those are those big, red boxes on the street corners, right? I always wondered what those were for. Do you think I can go see it? I'll bet the Ministry has loads of nifty magic."

Remus grinned at Harry's enthusiasm. He had never realized how much he took for granted, being raised in the wizarding world. "I don't see why not. We could cast a glamour over you and no one would suspect a thing. Even better, you could wear a hat or maybe some muggle sunglasses. No one would suspect a thing. Half the time, wizards wear the most outlandish clothes that you could show up in a pink tutu and no one would raise an eyebrow."

"That'd be great!" Harry said excitedly. "Maybe when you go to pick up your pass, I can go along. Would you show me those portals? Maybe we could visit a quidditch shop, too. I'd really like to look at some broomsticks. Marchbanks says that some of the most advanced brooms have runic bases. She claimed that the racing brooms had interlocking runes that allowed for layering of dozens of enchantments. Can we go by there, too?"

"I don't know, Harry. That might not be the best time. Maybe we should wait till after we get Sirius back." Remus said. Right away he felt awful as he watched Harry's face morph from exuberant expectation to great disappointment.

"Yeah, I understand." Harry said in defeat. "I know you have more important things to do. I shouldn't have asked."

Remus couldn't take it. Forcing more disappointment on a boy who had already endured so much heartache was more than he could bear. "Allright, Harry. I'll take you along." He told him.

Harry immediately perked up. "Really? Do you mean it?" He asked.

"Yes. But there are a couple of conditions."

"What kind of conditions?" Harry asked.

"First, I can't have you seen with me while I'm in Narcissa's form. It would raise too many questions that I can't answer. Second, you would have to stay close by and do exactly what I tell you. We can go to the Alley and look around. But, when I go to the Ministry, you are to stay in the Atrium until I return. You are not to talk to anyone of touch anything, unless I say. Agreed?"

"Sure. That'd be great. I really appreciate it! It'll be great fun, you'll see. I won't be any trouble, at all."

Remus looked into Harry's hopeful expression and knew he was doing the right thing. Harry deserved a little joy in his life. Remus pledged that he would do everything he could to see that he got it.

That week, Harry kept himself very busy. He and Remus had performed a test run creating the null field under circumstances as close to what Remus would encounter as they could find. The ended up using an old stone well house on the property. The couldn't use the actually gems, of course, but instead used some pebbles Harry had found on the lawn. To assure proper placement, Remus had devised an ingenious plan to build a pentacle using string. When it was laid out to the exact specifications required, he had marked the points of the star with ink and glued the intersection points together. When it was completed, he scourgified the markings he had made on the floor and set about setting out the string pentacle in its place. Then, he measured the whole thing again to ensure that it was as accurate as his original markings. It worked splendidly.

Once he was satisfied, Remus set the thing aside and conjured an exact replica of his creation. Then he began the painstaking process of gluing the thing to the ceiling. It was difficult work. Glue, it seemed, did not stick easily to aged stonework. Eventually, enough glue had accumulated from his failed attempts that he had a surface more conducive to the adhesive. After that, Remus and Harry glued their dangling pebbles from the points of the pentacle, as well as the center stone that made up the top of the shield. At last, their work completed, Remus and Harry sat on the floor of the well house and shared a bottle of butterbeer that Remus had picked up from the market in town.

The other days of the week, Harry continued his study. Their were, he soon found, many different variations to the Finn's portal. Their was a Finn's window, that worked on a similar principal, but only allowed light to enter from one end, while the other end remained hidden from view. There was also a Finn's Door, that Harry found extremely fascinating. Also known as a 'portable door' it required the same basic runes as the standard portal, but they were instead inscribed on parchment or cloth. Instead of being anchored at a different location, the anchoring runes were mirrored on the reverse side of the construction. When placed on a wall, this construction created a doorway through to the other side. The portal could be removed from the other side and could be used again. Finn, himself, had reportedly used the construction to escape imprisonment at the hands of his sworn enemy.

Harry thought it sounded very useful and spent several days practicing at drawing the runes until he had them all memorized. Without using magic, he had no way of activating them, but was proud of his achievement, nonetheless. He had also spent some time designing a rune to serve as his own totem. Such runes, his book insisted, were a necessity in most runic constructions. They linked the magic to the caster and the spells, once activated. The key to creating personal runes was that they had to have some personal relevance to their object, either in name or some other personal trait. They also had to avoid resemblance to anything in common usage, because that would dilute their magic. Harry had drawn his rune as a highly stylized 'H', bordered by a triangle within a circle.

All in all, Harry kept himself very busy, but still found time to pepper Remus with questions about the mission. He knew he couldn't participate himself, but wanted to feel involved in the process. Remus took his incessant questioning in good stride, and did his best to answer everything he could. Harry found out that Azkaban sat on an island in the North Sea, just off the coast, near the City of Sunderland.

"How will you get there? Apparate?" Harry asked one evening.

"No. Sunderland is too far away to apparate. I'll most likely floo from the Leaky Cauldron. There's an Inn near the checkpoint that has floo access. It's in a mostly muggle area, but the Witches' Brew is strongly warded against muggles. From there it's just a short hike to the mouth of the river. The guard station is right there on the coast."

"How do you use the floo? Does it require a special spell?" Harry asked.

"No. The floo is activated by throwing floo powder into the flames and calling out your destination. Once the flames turn green, you just step in and off you go. It can be a little disorienting at first, but you get the hang of it eventually."

"Oh. So you just step in and say 'the Witches Brew'? That's all there is to it?"

"Well, I wouldn't forget to throw the floo powder in first. Your feet might get a little scorched, otherwise." Remus chuckled.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Wizards are nutters." Harry said. "Why would someone want to travel by fireplace?"

"It does sound a little weird, at that. But, it works well and anyone can use it. Even a squib or a muggle."

"If you say so. I think I'd prefer apparating, myself."

"Many people do." Remus replied.

As Harry pondered the strangeness of magic folk, he came to realize how very much he still didn't know about the wizarding world. He felt that he was adrift in his ignorance and resolved to do anything in his power to correct it. Thoughts of his own inadequacy filled his head as he made his way to his bed for the night.


	12. The Best Laid Plans

Chapter 12; The Best Laid Plans

When the big day finally arrived, Harry was in a state of hyperactive energy. He was up, as usual, with the sun. He tried making breakfast, but just ended up with burned bacon and half-cooked eggs. When Remus awoke, Harry immediately pounced on him, peppering him with questions that he already knew the answers to. Remus bore it all with good grace (at first), but ended up having to stick Harry to his chair with a well placed sticking charm. He didn't have the stomach to leave it for long, but he did manage to extract a promise from Harry to tone down his questions until after he had finished his tea.

When the time came for their departure, they donned their robes and made their way onto the lawn. Remus wore his usual brown robes, but concealed underneath were the ladies robes he would need to complete his transformation into Narcissa Malfoy. Remus checked his pockets for the third time, verifying that he had the throwaway wand and polyjuice potion. He did. Satisfied, Remus grabbed Harry's arm and apparated them both to Diagon Alley.

Just like his last visit, the street held only a moderate amount of traffic. The weather was less forbidding, however, and the shoppers were less hurried in their activities. Scattered groups of wizards and witches could be seen chatting on the street corners, discussing their latest purchases or the news of the day. Remus watched amused as a group of hags bickered with the owner of the apothecary over the freshness of his pickled newt's eyes. The shopkeeper wrung his hands on his dirty apron, obviously trying to usher the hags from his property. His protestations and feeble gestures did little to dislodge the unruly hags, who seemed to take great delight in the man's discomfort.

Harry watched it all with a look of unmitigated wonder on his face. He darted his head, back and forth, trying to take in everything at once. Never in his life had he been in the company of so many magical folks. He was agog at all the sights and sounds in Diagon Alley. As he looked around at the various shops, he immediately noticed Quality Quidditch supplies. Without warning, he darted over to the window, looking in awe on the brooms displayed in the window. What he saw took his breath away. There were brooms made by Comet, Cleansweep and numerous other companies. The most impressive by far, to Harry's eye, was a highly burnished broom with it's name engraved on the shaft in shimmering, golden letters.

"Nimbus 1000." Harry said in an awed whisper. "S' beautiful!"

By this time, Remus had discovered that Harry was not at his side and managed to catch up with his overenthusiastic charge.

"Harold! I thought I told you to stay by my side!" He admonished, using the alias that they had agreed on for Harry.

His chastisement didn't register in the slightest. Remus was about to repeat himself when he noticed the rapt look in Harry's eyes. Sighing to himself, Remus nudged Harry with his hip, nearly overbalancing him in the process. Brought back to awareness, Harry grinned up at Remus.

"Look Remus!" He urged. "Aren't they great?"

Remus turned his attention to the brooms in the window. He had to admit, they did look impressive. While he was never as enamored of all things quidditch as James and Sirius were, he could appreciate their sleek and powerful appearance.

"They are." He replied. "Would you like to go inside or just stand here fogging up the glass?"

"Could we? That'd be great!" Harry said, seizing Remus' hand and dragging him into the shop.

When the shopkeeper heard the telltale ringing of the bell, indicating patrons had entered his shop, he immediately came from behind the polished counter and offered his hand in greeting. With a practiced eye, he noticed Remus' worn cloak and Harry's rather unkempt appearance. Surpressing his sigh, he addressed the pair.

"What can I help you two gentlemen with? In the market for a new broom?" He asked.

"Not as such, no." Remus answered. "Young Harold here is fascinated with their construction and wanted to talk to someone about how they were made."

Hearing that, the man's eyes lit up as he looked down at Harry. Having spent his adult life in the broom business, he was quite used to having his merchandise gawked over by adolescent boys. But seldom, if ever, did he find such youth interested in the magic involved in their making. Usually, he found, they just wanted to rub their grubby hands over them in abject avarice. While not a broom crafter himself, he shared with the boy a great appreciation of the spellwork behind these wonderful creations.

"I see." He said. "What was it you wanted to know?"

"Oh, everything! I think their fascinating." Harry replied.

The shopkeeper was just preparing himself to give his standard pitch, when Harry interrupted him.

"Are the interlocking runes on the Nimbus from Young or Old Futhark?" Harry asked. "How did they compensate for the interference between the levitation and steering charms? I read that many brooms use grounding runes to lessen the effect, but that doesn't seem to be the case here. Is that…..an Egyptian ward cluster?"

The shopkeeper blinked at Harry for several long seconds. Harry shifted nervously from foot to foot, mortified that he had asked such an obviously stupid question. Just as he was about to apologize and slink his way from the shop, the shopkeeper interrupted him.

"My word! What an extraordinary young man!" He said. "You're exactly right. The Nimbus line pioneered the integration of Egyptian ward glyphs in broom design. Increased their performance by a factor of three, at least. How on earth did you notice it?"

Remus turned to look at the broom sitting in the window. Even his preternaturally sharp eyes could detect no sign of runes or wards. It was then he realized that Harry must have used his mage-sight to pick up on the hidden runes. Suddenly, Remus was worried. Such remarkable talents as Harry's would not go unnoticed or unremarked upon. Before Harry could answer, Remus spoke.

"I'm sorry, sir, let me introduce ourselves. I'm Remus Lupin and this is my ward, Harold James. Whom might we have the pleasure of addressing?" remus asked.

"Oh, right. My apologies, Mr. Lupin. In my astonishment, I have forgotten myself. Leopold Gentry, at your service." He said with an exaggerated bow.

Harry giggled at his theatrics which brought a smile to the proprieter's face. "I must say, you have a remarkable young man there, Mr. Lupin. How ever did he come upon such a talent, if I might ask?"

"Not at all." Remus replied. "The boy has an incredible mind for runes, as I'm sure you'll agree. I've been tutoring him for several years in the subject and I can tell you he's a most apt pupil. We were both admiring the spellwork on your brooms in the window. I know a charm to reveal hidden runes and Harry here was quick to pick out their significance. Since he's long shown a fascination with brooms, we thought we'd come in. I do hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, my good man! I'm delighted to find a kindred spirit among our youth! Tell me, Harold, why do you think they used an Egyptian ward cluster instead of the typical grounding rune?" The shopkeeper asked with a look of expectation on his face.

Harry scratched his head in thought. After a few seconds, he replied, "I couldn't say for sure, sir. I've read that different runic families shouldn't be used together. Too much interference, if I remember right. I wonder…"

"Yes?" The man asked, encouraged by Harry's reasoning.

"Maybe that's the answer." Harry said, his young face deep in thought. "Yes! I'm sure of it! The Egyptian ward must be activated when it detects conflict between the charms. It would create just enough interference to reduce the conflicting energies. That's bloody brilliant! Whoever thought of that must be proud as a rutting rooster! What a pip! Who was it, do you know? I wonder if he has written any books. Remus, do you think we could check at the bookseller?"

The shopkeeper smiled in amusement at Harry, whether at his childish enthusiasm, his insightful answer or his vulgarity, is anyone's guess. Remus was sure, whatever else happened, this would not be a day the man would soon forget. Which is exactly why Remus felt an urgent need to move on, as quickly as Harry could be convinced.

"I do believe you've got it!" The shopkeeper said, clapping his hands together in glee. "Charms Master Gladstone, I'm sure, would be happy for your endorsement. As for the books, I doubt he has any in his name. The broom makers, as a rule, guard their secrets very jealously. Still, I might have something that would interest you."

The shopkeeper reached behind his counter and pulled out a battered copy of _The Broom Maker's Almanac_. He glanced down at it wistfully for a second, and then handed the copy to Harry. Harry was speechless. From it's well worn cover, he could tell it was a prized possession. That the man was giving him such an important gift, left him humbled. "Are you sure?" Harry asked the man.

The shopkeeper smiled. "Young man, I'm delighted to help you in this way. A talent such as yours is exceedingly rare. It is my proud duty to encourage it. With hard work, I'm sure you will one day make your mark in this world. I just hope I'm around to see it."

I will, sir. I promise!" Harry replied.

"I know you will, son. Just think, one day I might be selling brooms of your own design! I will look forward to that day with great earnest."

With glad goodbye's and handshakes all around, Remus and Harry made their way outside. Harry was so encouraged by his encounter, that he all but dragged Remus down the street. Remus next took Harry down to the Leaky Cauldron, where he showed him the portal. Harry studied it minutely, impressed with it beyond measure. He had numerous questions, most of which Remus couldn't answer. Eventually Harry had taken out a notebook and scribbled down his observations. When he was satisfied, Remus took him on a brief tour of the Alley, pointing out the various shops and explaining what wares they had to offer. Perhaps an hour later, Remus decided that they had done enough sightseeing for one day. Harry grumbled a little, but soon acquiesced. Both of them were eager to get on with the task at hand.

Remus found a deserted alley, just off the main thoroughfare. He pulled Harry into its darkened recesses and bid him to stay hidden. Remus then took the polyjuice potion from his pocket and swallowed it with a grimace. When the transformation was complete, he handed Harry his old robe and reminded him of his instructions. It was unnecessary, he knew. They had both gone over the plan until they could recite it in their sleep. Just as they planned, Remus walked out of the alley, with Harry following at a discreet distance. With unhurried steps, they made their way toward the Ministry of Magic.

Shortly thereafter, Harry found himself standing in the atrium of the Ministry building. He was mightily impressed with the architecture. It was built on a grand scale and was quite unlike anything he had ever seen before. He was less than impressed, however, with the fountain in the center of the room. The Fountain of Magical Brethren may have been an important and valuable work of art. It certainly appeared so, if the shimmering gold from which it was made was any indication. But Harry practically seethed at the mocking and distasteful representation it depicted. The creatures in the statue were all fawning in admiration for the proud witch and wizard that stood tall at its center. The pitiable house elf, in particular, drew his ire.

Harry sat daydreaming, imagining taking an axe to the gold monstrosity, almost oblivious to the comings and goings around him. He was therefore, completely startled by the hand that suddenly materialized on his shoulder. Looking up quickly, he was reassured to see Remus Lupin's smiling face gazing down at him.

"Did you get it?" Harry whispered.

Remus nodded, quickly drawing out the pass and showing it to him. "Yes. Now I believe it's best if we don't tarry. Keep behind me and we'll make our way out the same way we came in. Understand?"

Harry nodded. Doing just as Remus asked, Harry followed a few strides behind him as they made their way to the exit. Before they had crossed half the distance, Harry nearly bumped into Remus as he came to an abrupt halt.

"Oh, bugger." Harry heard Remus mutter.

"What is it?" Harry asked, peeking around him to see what the problem was. Harry immediately noticed a tall, striking figure walking toward them. The wizard had a long, white beard and small, half-moon spectacles on the end of his crooked nose. Most striking of all, however, were the sky blue robes he wore. They were decorated with twinkling stars. Even as he looked at it, Harry watched a star streak across the fabric, on its way to parts unknown. Harry had never seen anyone, either wizard or muggle, who could cut quite the figure this man did.

"Who is that?" Harry whispered.

"Albus Dumbledore. Try not let him see you and for the love of Merlin, don't look him in the eyes." Remus whispered back.

Harry ducked back behind Remus. He could hear the old wizards soft footfalls approaching. Harry held his breath. He had heard of Albus Dumbledore. More specifically, he had heard Uncle Charlus complaining about him. Harry knew he was a powerful figure, both as Headmaster of Hogwarts and Chief Mugwump of the Wizengamot. Harry held his breath, hoping to get by unnoticed.

"Good morning, Madam Malfoy." The ancient wizard said, a cheerful note in his voice. "What an unexpected delight. What brings you by the Ministry this fine day?"

"Greetings to you, as well. I'm just here for a little business, Headmaster. Nothing of import, I assure you. Yourself?" Remus answered in Mrs. Malfoy's high voice.

Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, but he thought he could detect the uncertainty in Remus' voice.

"The very same, Lady Malfoy. I daresay, the longer one lives, the tasks requiring attention grows longer still." Dumbledore replied.

"Yes, of course. Well, we must be off. It was a pleasure as always, Headmaster."

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your little companion. Surely that's not Draco. I seem to remember him with a rather striking collection of blonde hairs."

"Ummm. Yes, of course." Remus reluctantly agreed. "May I present to you Harold James, the youngest son of a very dear friend. Come around here, Harold. Please greet the Headmaster."

Harry stepped around Remus and extended a hand toward the aged wizard. The man was even taller up close and his long, flowing beard was topped with bright blue, twinkling eyes. Seeing them, Harry remembered Remus' warning and immediately ducked his head.

"A pleasure." Harry said.

"The pleasure is all mine, my boy. Mr. James, was it? "

"Yes sir."

"Well, Albus, we really must be off. I promised the lad's mother that I would have him back soon. She takes a fright when he's gone too long. I'm sure you understand. Come along Harold."

Remus grabbed Harry by the hand and started to head toward the exit. They had barely gone a step before the Headmaster's voice interrupted them. "Madam Malfoy. Seeing you today reminded me of a recent acquisition I made. A most delightful piece of embroidery I picked up on the continent. Tell me, do you still collect them?"

Remus came to a slow stop. Sighing quietly, he turned around, unobtrusively maneuvering himself so that he was between Harry and the venerable wizard.

"Not for a while, Headmaster. I just haven't found the time. Now, if you'll excuse us?" Remus said.

"Of course, of course. Time does slip away, doesn't it? I wouldn't bother you with it, but I know you have a good eye for the art. I happen to have it, right here with me. Would you mind having a quick look? I'm sure it would be no bother."

"I….suppose. Just a quick look, mind you." Remus replied. While he was talking, Remus placed his hands behind his back. Before Harry knew it, Remus was blindly thrusting the visitor's pass and the vial of polyjuice potion into his hands. Harry quickly grabbed them and hid them in the folds of his robes.

Harry watched as Remus walked over to the Headmaster. When he drew near, he could see the older wizard reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a frilly lace handkerchief, that he held up for Remus' inspection.

"There. Do you see the stitching. A fine example of a Gordian knot, don't you think, my lady?" The Headmaster asked. Even from a distance, Harry could see the twinkle in his eyes as he spoke.

"Yes, it's quite lovely. Remarkable stitching. Well, if that is all, I really must be…"

"Oh! You haven't seen the best part!" The Headmaster enthused. "It's charmed, you see. Here let me show you." The headmaster pulled out his wand to touch the handkerchief in Remus' hand.

"I'm not sure I see…" Remus said, squinting at the cloth.

"It's simple, my dear lady. You just have to know the incantation." With that said, the Headmaster touched his wand to the cloth and said, "_Portus." _Remus Lupin disappeared in a bright flash of light.

"A Gordion Knot, indeed." The Headmaster said, spinning around on his heels. With a frown, he looked around for the boy he had seen earlier. The crowd in the Atrium had paid him little mind after he had unobtrusively cast a _notice-me-not_ charm on the area. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for the errant boy. After a minute's fruitless search, he gave it up as a lost cause. With hurried steps he walked over to the floo and soon after, disappeared in a gust of green flames.


	13. The Great Escape

Chapter 13; The Great Escape

Harry tried to unobtrusively listen to their conversation, but lost interest when it became obvious that the subject was a rather dainty, lace handkerchief. Despite being an immensely powerful and well-respected figure, Harry couldn't help but think the old man was harmless, even if a bit dotty. But, when he saw the man pull a wand from his robes, his impression quickly changed. Intellectually, Harry knew that Remus was not likely to be attacked in the middle of the Ministry of Magic, but something about those twinkling eyes had Harry's nerves on edge. His first thought was to rush the man. He figured he could at least distract him long enough for Remus to make a getaway. But, then his thoughts returned to the visitor's pass in his hand. He knew that pass was a ticket to freedom for his Godfather. Remus had entrusted it to Harry, and Harry was not about to let him down. While the two men were engrossed over the napkin, Harry edged himself closer to the exit.

Harry hid himself from view by walking along with a group of elderly wizards who did not so much as blink at his presence among them. For all Harry knew they did not even know he was there. He guessed that his youth and small stature had finally come in handy after all. The old wizards covered his retreat, right up to the exit. Before abandoning Remus, he took a quick look back the way he came. Just in time, Harry watched as Remus disappeared in a flash of light. Harry didn't know what spell was used, but he was shocked with the suddenness of it. Knowing he was too late to help Remus, Harry quickly darted out the door.

As soon as he was outside, Harry ran pell mell for the Leaky Cauldron. As he huffed and puffed down the street, he felt terrible for abandoning his friend. Though his feelings for Remus were still mixed, he had to admit to himself that the man had done nothing but his best for him. Harry was pretty sure that he hadn't been hurt by the Headmaster. He figured that he was probably given a portkey or some similar device. That thought did little to assuage his guilty conscience.

Arriving at the pub, Harry leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. He was at a loss for what to do. He couldn't apparate and the Manor wasn't connected to the floo system. As far as that went, Harry had no real idea where Godric's Hollow was located. He knew that it was near the Welsh border, but that was all. The sum total of his travel experience was a few apparations with Remus and Tippy.

Utterly alone and quite despondent, Harry took stock of his situation. He had a few galleons that Remus had given him for emergencies. This surely qualified as that. He knew he could ask for directions from some of the pub's patrons, but one look at the clientele rather quickly disabused him of that notion. Plus, he knew that being an unchaperoned child would likely lead to questions he couldn't answer. Looking down at the pass in his hand, he noticed that it was only good for two days. Harry quickly made a decision. As far as he knew, they might never get a chance like this again. Remus was likely in Dumbledore's custody. It would only be a matter of time before their plan was discovered. Harry would be damned before he let Sirius rot in jail, all do to some cock-up.

To say that Harry knew nothing of wizarding travel was not completely accurate. He did know ONE floo address. _The Witches Brew_ in the City of Sunderland; The gateway to Azkaban prison. Harry had the polyjuice potion in his pocket. He also had Remus' cloak. Harry quickly searched the pockets and was quite relieved to feel a lump of string, a tube of what Harry guessed was glue and some small, lead boxes within. Remus, it seemed, had come prepared.

Harry walked cautiously toward the crowded common room. Along the wall, he noticed a coat rack, filled with assorted robes. Harry grabbed the finest and most feminine one out of the lot, and rolled it up in Remus' robes. Shifting the large bundle under his arm, Harry made his way over to the floo.

Luckily for Harry, another young witch was also about to depart. He carefully watched her as she grabbed the floo powder from a little jar by the mantle and threw a handful into the flames. As soon as the flames turned green, she stepped confidently inside and called out her address, somewhere in Surrey. Before anyone could look askance at him, Harry copied her actions. He could not reach the mantle, but there was an unoccupied chair nearby that fit the bill. As he dragged the chair near the fire, the barkeep, a wizened and rotten toothed man in an apron, called out to him from across the pub.

"You there! Young man! What do you think you are doing?"

"Borrowing your floo. Hope you don't mind." Harry called back as he grabbed a hold of the floo powder. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the barkeep walking out from behind the bar.

"Now see here!" The man yelled. "Aren't you a little young to be using the floo by yourself?"

"Why, yes. Yes I am." Harry replied, jumping down from the chair. Glistening powder dripped from his hands as he stepped toward the fire. Before the man could raise further objections, Harry threw in the powder and called out his destination.

"_The Witches Brew, Sunderland!" _He yelled. In a flash of green fire, he was gone.

Harry tumbled out of the fire like a whirling dervish of flying arms and legs. "Bloody great bollocks!" He exclaimed as he dragged himself to his feet. Taking stock that he still had all his appendages right where he had left them, Harry risked a look around.

_The Witches Brew_ made the previous pub look like a palace. The paint was peeling and slightly moldy and the place stank of stale spirits and tobacco smoke. Harry rubbed his teary eyes on the sleeve of his robe. Luckily for him, the place appeared deserted. Even the proprietor was curiously absent. Harry was not about to question his luck. As stealthily as he could, Harry hurried out the door.

The sight that greeted him, quite took his breath away. The Pub sat right on the outskirts of a fair sized city. Harry had spent some little time wandering the streets of the Hollow. He had been to Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. None of that prepared him for the profusion of people and automobiles that wandered the streets nearby. Harry was tempted to take advantage of his brief taste of freedom and have a look around, but remembering his task, decided it could wait for another day. Recalling Remus' directions, Harry soon found the river and immediately turned to follow it downstream.

The wind, Harry soon discovered, was rather stronger and colder than he was accustomed to. Luckily for him, he had two extra robes under his arm. Not wanting to dirty the ladies garment, Harry quickly donned Remus' robe and was immediately thankful for the added protection.

Harry followed a well worn trail as it ran along the river's banks. After perhaps half an hour, he came at last to a stumbling stop at the river's mouth. He could only stare dumbfounded at the scene before him. Spread as far as the eye could see there was a giant expanse of water. It was dotted with white-capped waves that beat resoundingly against the shore. White seabirds were in profusion, swooping and diving in a great, dizzying dance. For long moments, Harry just stared at the spectacle, sweeping his eyes along the rocky coast. Eventually he noticed a slender pier and a rather stolid boathouse a few hundred yards along the beach. Realizing he had reached his destination, Harry reluctantly pulled his eyes away from the majestic scenery and concentrated on the task at hand.

Harry pulled the vial of polyjuice potion from his pocket and quickly downed it. He soon found that the transformation was not painful, but dreadfully uncomfortable. He was pleased, however, to note that he had grown several feet. He was less enthusiastic about the uncomfortable fact that his clothes were now painfully tight. His swelled chest strained against the buttons of his shirt and his pants felt like they were trying to split him in two. Harry was so constricted that he could barely move. He realized, with dread, that he had no choice but to remove them.

Squatting behind a scraggly bush, Harry removed his robes and clothes. The bitter wind immediately had him shivering. He was so cold that he could hardly be bothered to explore the interesting and naked nubile body that he had borrowed. He did, however, find the energy to grab his newfound breasts and shake them enthusiastically.

"J…J…Jiggly." He stuttered, his teeth chattering in the cold air.

With as much haste as he could manage, Harry donned the ladies' robe. He was mostly starkers underneath, but kept his snug fitting boxers as a pretense at modesty. He was very pleased to realize that his shoes were a close match for his dainty feet. His toes were a wee bit cramped and they were hopelessly unmatched to the femine garb, but they were serviceable. Harry wasn't any judge of women's fashions, but figured they would get less noticed than the fact that he was almost completely starkers beneath his robe. Luckily, the wool garment buttoned all the way up the front, ending in a stiff brocade collar. They were a little short, but not so much to notice.

Fully outfitted (or as near as he could manage), Harry stashed his clothes behind the bush and pocketed the supplies from Remus' robes. Then he remembered that he would likely be searched, he hoped not too thoroughly, and stashed the whole lot into his knickers. With careful steps, he made his way down the beach and up to the boathouse.

As he neared, one of the guards noticed his approach and hastened quickly outside.

"My lord, woman! Hurry inside. You'll catch your death out here!" The man exclaimed, rushing to take his arm.

Harry did his best to put on an aristocratic air, borrowing heavily from the adventurous stories that Charlus had told him. "Not at all, my good sir. Not at all. I do thank you for your kindness. The weather is a bit more….brisk than I'm accustomed to."

"I dare say it is, my lady." The man gushed, his eyes drinking in Harry's appearance. Harry was most revolted at the lingering stare, but thought it best to ignore it.

"So what brings you out to these humble parts?" The man asked.

"An unfortunate bit of family business, I'm afraid." Harry answered, handing the man the pass.

The man swept his gaze over the document, but kept a closer eye on Harry's backside as he pretended to read. "Well, it seems everything's in order. Would you care for a spot of tea. I've just put a pot on the boil."

Harry fought down the urge to roll his eyes. Plucking the pass from the guard's hand, Harry answered in his most dignified voice. "I'm afraid I must decline. My business is rather urgent and the day is wasting away. Another time, perhaps?"

The man affected a rather piteous look as Harry demurred, but his entire countenance lit up as Harry finished his sentence. "Of course. I wouldn't dream of delaying a fine lady, such as yourself. Just let's step over to the boat and we'll be on our way."

Harry had to agree that being a pretty woman certainly had its perks. He very much doubted the guard would be so accommodating if he wore his true form.

As impressed as Harry was with the North Sea, he was far less impressed with the journey across it. The choppy water was pretty at a distance, but left Harry feeling slightly queasy as it tossed around the small boat. The constant fawning and inane commentary from the lovesick guard was even more nauseating, if that was possible. After an interminable period, the boat finally touched down on the barren rock of the island.

Remus' description, while accurate, didn't capture the pure awfulness of the place. It was dark and dismal and left a tainted and depressing malaise on Harry's spirit. Even at a distance, Harry could feel the oppressive weight of despair bearing down on him. His first glimpse of the prison was almost enough to cause him to turn back. Only thoughts of his Godfather wasting away in that awful place, kept him to his course.

Harry left the boatman with promises to call upon him again on the return trip. Luckily for Harry, the guards at the gate were no more thorough than their counterparts. Harry was on pins and needles as they read over his document, convinced that they would see through his disguise or demand to search his person. One of them, a tall, wiry fellow with a great mess of windblown hair, seemed to want to do just that, but a sharp glance from his fellow cut him short.

"After all," the man told him with a wink, "Lady Malfoy is hardly going to stage a breakout."

Harry wasn't about to correct the man.

Harry proceeded into the prison proper and was immediately overwhelmed with feelings of despair and hopelessness. After a considerable struggle, Harry managed to feed all those negative thoughts into the flame, until he calmed down. Weary and panting from his ordeal, Harry made his way under the unforgiving stone edifice, until he came at last to the visitor's office.

The receptionist at the desk, for some reason, seemed much less taken with Harry. She peppered him with questions and sniffed disdainfully at his carefully worded answers. After what felt like days to Harry, she grudgingly handed him a visitor's badge and called over a red robed auror to serve as escort. The auror, too, seemed less than friendly, but thankfully kept his opinions to himself. He immediately conjured a brightly glowing _Patroni,_ which took the form of a crocodile, of all things. Whatever its form, Harry almost immediately felt better in its presence and was immensely grateful for the stern auror.

The winding halls were also a trial for young Harry. The prisoners on the lower level were even more bawdy than Remus described. At nearly every cell they passed, the inmates called out suggestive and lurid propositions that tested even Harry's knowledge of the vulgar arts. Harry made note of some of the more descriptive terms, anxious to try them out on his uncle's portrait.

Finally, they arrived at the stairs that lead down to the lower levels. The glowing _Patroni_ lead the way down the darkened stairs, with Harry and the auror close behind. Arriving at the maximum security ward, Harry took stock of his surroundings. A chair stood just outside the stairwell, presumably so the auror could wait in comfort during the infrequent visits to the residents. The cell doors were made of solid metal and there were tiny, barred windows set near the top of each door. All in all, Harry could scarcely imagine a more forbidding sight.

The guard, after unlocking Sirius' cell, drew his wand and appeared very ready to do violence in his defense. He looked almost mutinous when Harry asked him for privacy.

"Mrs. Malfoy," the guard stated incredulously. Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise, not realizing that the guard recognized his appearance. "I don't think that's wise. Most of the inmates here are not what you would call….civilized. Most of them are barely sane. All of them would kill you, right quick, if given a chance."

"He's family." Harry replied.

The guard looked at him with skepticism. "Family or not, you shouldn't be left alone with him. Sirius Black is a cold-blooded murderer."

Harry bore it all with a look of outright contempt on his haughty face. "I assure you, auror, I am quite safe. We are cousins, after all. Sirius is a Black. He couldn't possibly harm me. I realize that you are trying to look out for me, but I really must insist on privacy. Such family matters are not meant for other's ears."

"Very well." The man relented. "On your head it be. But know this; At the first sign of trouble, I'll be in there in a flash and I assure you that your cousin will not enjoy the experience. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly." Harry replied.

When the auror had moved back down the hall, Harry braced himself and pulled on the heavy door. With surprising ease, it yanked open, spilling light into the dismal cell. At the sudden noise, the man laying on the small cot looked up, squinting into the light. As he recognized Harry's appearance, his eyes furrowed and a confused frown showed itself on his face.

"Cissy? Is that you?" He asked.

"Hello, Sirius." Harry answered, studying the unkempt man before him. He had expected it from Remus' description, but was still shocked at his gaunt frame and sunken cheeks. Giving lie to his feeble appearance, the man jumped up from the cot and closed the distance to Harry. He grabbed Harry's shoulders in a surprisingly firm grip.

"What the devil are you doing here, Cissy? You're the last person I expected to come calling."

Harry glanced over his shoulder. When he was convinced that the guard was not loitering nearby, he answered in a whisper. "Remus sent me."

The look of surprise and disbelief on Sirius' face was almost comical to Harry. Sirius looked like he could be knocked over with a feather. "Remus? Sent you?" Sirius abruptly sat down on the bed, cradling his head in his hands. Harry could hear him muttering quietly under his breath.

"Remus must really be off his nut…barmy old wolf…can't send Dumbledore…no that would be too easy….Hey! I know! Let's send Narcissa bloody Malfoy to the rescue…nothing at all wrong with that…great bloody git!"

Harry guffawed at the rant, pleased that Sirius still seemed to retain his wits. "Are you quite finished?" he asked.

Sirius looked up at him. "There might be a few more in there. Let me see." He replied with a smirk, scratching his scraggly beard and making a great show of being deep in thought. "Nope. I think I got them all."

Harry snickered. "Good. What say we get you out of here?"

"You've secured my release?" Sirius asked with a hopeful look on his face.

"Er…not exactly." Harry answered. "Arranged your escape, is closer to the truth."

"Really?" Sirius perked up. "What's the plan? Who have we got inside?"

Harry motioned him to keep quiet. "Remus was supposed to be here himself, but got…detained…by that Dumbledore bloke. So, to answer your question, it's just you and me."

"Dumbledore? What on earth was he doing?" Sirius asked with a hopelessly confused look on his face. "Never mind. I'm sure I'm better off not knowing. I'm probably hallucinating this whole thing. Much better to just go along."

"Probably right." Harry answered him. "So moving right along, why don't you move your arse off that cot and give me a hand."

Sirius immediately hastened to comply. Together, he and Harry managed to drag the cot into the middle of the room. Harry winced at the noise they were making, expecting at any minute that the guard would burst into the room. When the guard failed to appear, Harry reached under his robes and drew the ball of string from his knickers. Sirius raised an eyebrow at him, whether at his choice of hiding spot or the fact that Narcissa Malfoy was wearing boy's briefs, Harry had no idea.

Harry started to untangle the string, careful not to dislodge any of the glued joints. The process seemed to take forever, but Harry eventually managed to get it laid out on the cot. Sirius watched it all with curiosity. Harry then jumped up on the cot. In his new guise, he was just able to reach the low, stone ceiling. Harry pulled out the tube of glue and applied a drop of it to the stone. He then reached down and grabbed the marked string that indicated a point of the pentacle and held it to the glue. Just as he had feared, it wouldn't adhere the damp, dirty surface. Harry bit back the urge to cuss. He and Remus had expected as much, after their trials at the well house. Instead, Harry bid Sirius join him on the cot, which Sirius did after giving Harry a skeptical look.

"What the hell are we doing, anyway? How is this meant to help me escape." He asked.

"It would take too long to explain." Harry answered him. "Just know that we need to get this pentacle glued to the ceiling. It's not wanting to stick. I need you to hold this string at the marked point and pull it tight. Whatever you do, make sure you hold it in that position. This has to be precisely done or it won't work."

"Right. Don't question the insanely difficult and unlikely plot. I got it." Sirius muttered.

Despite his skepticism, Sirius did as Harry asked. Harry managed to apply another bead of glue at the proper spot. That completed, Harry figured that enough time had passed that the first spot he had glued would be dry enough to complete the join. Harry grabbed Sirius' end and applied another drop of glue, just over the previous spot. To Harry's surprise, the string did finally adhere to the surface and Harry moved over to repeat the process on the second point.

Harry was inordinately pleased with his success. Everything was going to plan, more or less. Just as he was about to complete the third point, disaster struck. A thousand years of dampness and grime, it seemed, was not about to be overcome with a tiny bit of glue. As Harry was stretching the string to attach the third point, the first spot he had glued came undone. Shortly thereafter, the entire thing started to come down. Sirius, in an unfortunate attempt to save their efforts, lunged forward to catch the falling contraption. In his weakened state, he misjudged his footing, and his shifting weight overturned the cot, Harry and all, sending them all in a clattering mess, to the floor.

"Diseased, dying dragon drippings!" Harry swore under his breath. He knew they would be extremely lucky if the guard had not been alerted by the sudden racket. Sure enough, not a second later, the guard burst into the cell, his wand drawn.

With a quick glance, the auror took in the unlikely tableau. Harry and Sirius were on the floor, lying in a tangle of limbs and string; the cot overturned in the center of the room. The auror was doubtless confused at the scene, but his training was up to the task. Harry noticed his narrowing eyes and his raised wand and knew that the auror was about to cast a spell. From the direction the wand was pointed, Harry knew that Sirius was the target.

Throwing the string off him, Harry lurched to place himself in front of Sirius, just as the auror's spell flew. Harry watched it coming, seemingly in slow motion, and braced himself for the impact. The spell, a bludgeoning curse, struck him square in the chest, and Harry was immediately flung against the wall, his head making painful contact with the unforgiving stone. The auror was undeterred by Harry's actions. He immediately cast another spell at Sirius that Harry was in no position to intercept. The cutting curse struck Sirius a glancing blow on the arm, but still drew a bright line of red across his dirty prison uniform. Sirius' pained scream bounced painfully around the small room and immediately roused the other prisoners from their stupor. They immediately began to call out from their cells, screaming obscenities and calls for the auror's blood.

Harry, still groggy from the blow he sustained, looked over at where Sirius lay crumpled on the floor. The sight of his bloodied arm, caused a red haze to cover Harry's vision. As sudden as a summer rainstorm, he was filled with rage and violent intent. With a snarl, Harry leaped at the auror. The auror's face showed a brief look of surprise at Harry's sudden attack, but quickly recovered. A bright, crimson light shot out of his wand, only to bounce harmlessly off Harry's chest. Harry hardly felt the impact. Before the auror could recover, Harry was on him.

Harry grabbed the much larger man and lifted him from his feet like he weighed scarcely a stone. With uncanny strength, Harry tossed the man across the cell. The auror crashed into the wall with enough force to cause some of the mortar to fall from the ceiling. He didn't move. The fact that he might have killed an auror, didn't bother Harry in the slightest. So consumed was he by the torrent of emotions filling his head, that he immediately moved to finish the job. The only thing that saved the helpless man from a horrible and bloody end, was Sirius. As Harry stalked his prey, Sirius grabbed him from behind and locked him in a firm grip. Harry tried to shake him off, but his clawing fingers could find little purchase.

"That's enough, Cissy! I think he's done. Merlin! I hope you didn't kill him. The guards won't react well to losing one of their own."

Sirius' words somehow penetrated Harry's fevered brain. By slow degrees, the rage faded, until he finally gained a semblance of calm. When he stopped struggling, Sirius released him from his hold and immediately moved to check on the fallen auror.

"He's alive." Sirius sighed gratefully. "Merlin, Cissy! What did you do? I've never seen anything like that."

Harry knew precisely what had happened. He knew that he had felt the werewolf's influence. With a calmer mind, he felt bad for the innocent auror who was just doing his job, after all. But Harry also knew that he couldn't afford to dwell on it. Their attack was sure to be discovered soon and the caterwauling of the other inmates was certainly not helping any.

"Shite, shite, SHITE!" Harry swore, darting quickly to the door to see if any one had been alerted by the noise. Hearing nothing but the screams of the other prisoners, he poked his head out the door. As near as he could tell, the coast was clear, but he didn't expect it to be that way for long. Turning back around he noticed that Sirius had liberated the guard's wand and had wasted no time in stunning and binding him. When he caught Harry's eye, he gave him a goofy grin.

"Well, that was fun!" Sirius said, rubbing his hands together.

Harry rolled his eyes. "We aim to please. Any thoughts on how to get out of this mess?" he asked.

"Me?" Sirius said with a surprised look on his face. "This is your brilliant plan, I believe. What was the idea with all that string, anyway?"

"It creates a null field that allows apparition through the wards. We had hoped to get out undetected. That's all bollixed up, now." Harry said, trying to catch his breath. He felt quite out of his element. His heart was still racing from the fight and he was feeling a little light headed from the sudden adrenaline rush. Looking down, he noticed that his hands still glowed from his emotional, magical outburst.

"We could apparate through the wards?" Sirius asked hopefully. Harry nodded. "Well let's get it set up then!" Sirius exclaimed.

"We can't. Not in here, at least. Too dirty and damp for the glue to stick. You saw what happened." Harry replied.

"What about a sticking charm?" Sirius asked.

"I don't have a wand!" Harry yelled. "Not that it would do any good if I did." He added under his breath.

Oh no?" Sirius asked. Harry looked up at Sirius, intent on giving him a piece of his mind when he noticed the wand he was waving in the air. He had completely forgotten about the auror's wand.

"Oh, right. Forgot about that." He said in embarrassment. "I'll hold the string and you cast the charm. Allright?"

"Let's do it!" Sirius said, hopping on his feet in excitement.

Quickly, Harry and Sirius righted the cot and Harry grabbed the string from where it landed. Luckily, the skirmish with the auror hadn't damaged it any, otherwise, Harry was unsure if he could repair it. Just as he was climbing onto the cot, they heard a loud bang from the hallway. Harry nearly fell off the cot again, in his surprise. The prisoners shouts quieted a bit following the noise, allowing Harry to hear the unmistakable voice of authority that rang in the confined space.

"What's all this, then?" The voice demanded.

Sirius and Harry exchanged a nervous look. Sirius moved to the door of the cell and peeked out from his narrow window. He looked back at Harry. Harry saw him mouth the word "auror." Harry was immediately on full alert, his blood hammering in his veins like the pounding of a drum.

"Can you seal the door?" He asked Sirius in a whisper.

"Yeah. Can't do anything for the window, though. It wouldn't keep them out for long. We'd be sitting ducks in here." He answered.

Harry racked his brain for any way out of the situation. "Is there anywhere on the ward that would be more secure?" He asked.

Sirius thought about it for a moment, before nodding. "Aye. There's a storeroom at the end of the hall. The guards use it as a fortification in case of a breakout. The door's heavily warded, though. I don't think there's any way we could get in." He answered.

Harry thought about it briefly. He was no ward-breaker, even if he had his magic. He had no idea how to get through a warded door….unless….he didn't use the door.

"That's it! Sirius, seal the door! Don't let anyone in. I'll need a moment." He yelled.

Sirius wasted no time in complying. Meanwhile, Harry grabbed the worn-out blanket and easily tore a large section from it. Looking around, he realized with horror that he didn't have anything to draw with. Swearing vehemently, he kicked the cot and was immediately sorry for his actions. The frame of the bed was made of rather flimsy metal, and had broken during the tussle with the guard. A section of one of the legs had broken and the ragged metal had not felt pleasant against Harry's foot.

"Just great!" Harry muttered. "S' not enough to be stuck in prison and injuring a guard, now I've got a bloody broken foot, too!"

Before the words had hardly left his mouth, Harry had an epiphany. Crouching down, he ran his feminine hand over the serrated edge of the broken bed frame. It was not sharp, but certainly jagged enough for his purposes. He immediately jabbed his index finger against the sharpest point and hissed in pain as the metal pierced his uncalloused finger. Inspecting it, Harry was pleased with the bright, flowing blood that gathered at it's tip. It would work!

Without further thought, Harry began applying himself to the task. He spread the torn cloth out on the cot and began to hastily draw a rune in his own blood. In the hallway outside, he could still hear the auror, who appeared to be questioning someone in one of the nearby cells. The prisoner he was questioning didn't seem to be cooperating, however, a fact for which Harry was extremely grateful. Focusing on the task at hand, Harry drew the first rune. It wasn't easy. Such runes were fairly intricate and really required more precision than a bloody finger allowed. It forced him to draw them bigger than he normally did. He also had to stop several times and squeeze his fingertip, urging the blood to flow more freely.

Just as he finished the first rune, Harry heard the guard begin to question another prisoner. Whoever it was, he was no fan of the guard, if his loud comments about his parentage were any indication. The guard must have realized he would get nowhere with his current tactic, because he let off another loud bang with his wand.

"Alright, you lot!" He yelled. "The next person who refuses to tell me what the devil is going on around here is going to spend the next month of their life making very close friends with the dementors!" He was answered only by silence. The threat of dementors was not one to take lightly, even for hardened criminals.

The silence drew out for several long moments and Harry almost sagged with relief. His relief was short-lived, however, when he heard the next words out of the auror's mouth.

"You! Black! You're next. Care to share what all the ruckus is about?"

Harry sucked in his breath and reapplied himself to his task. His breath was labored, but his hands were steady as he drew the next rune. He was very thankful for his many hours of practice. The runes were imbedded firmly in his memory and practically flew from his bleeding hand. So great was his concentration that he didn't notice the increasing glow from his hands or the subtle, but noticeable glow that emanated from the bloody runes.

Sirius, though scared, was having the time of his life, or recent life, anyway. Adopting an almost nonchalant air, he addressed the guard. "It's nothing, really. LeStrange over there was saying as how the Chudley Canons were going to win the Cup this year. Which is pure nonsense, of course. Everyone knows those wankers couldn't win, even if they were the only ones to show up at the match."

"Quidditch? You lot got all worked up over quidditch? I don't believe it. Pull the other one!" The guard answered.

"Well, you don't hear me shouting. Only a great lump like Rabastan would get so worked up over the Canons."

"Oy! Shut your gob, Black! It was you that…" Lestrange responded, only to be interrupted by Sirius' loud retort.

"You know it's true!" Sirius shouted. "Always going on about the Canons, you are! It's enough to make a man's ears bleed the way you carry on. Just last week you were carrying on about how they were so underrated. If you weren't a man, I'd swear you fancied that chaser of theirs. Drumhall, isn't it. Course if what I hear about you is true, you probably do fancy him. Isn't that right, Lestrange?" Sirius said with a smirk.

"What?! Why, you little….if I wasn't…." he stuttered, indignantly.

"That's enough!" The auror interjected. "You had best keep it quiet from here on out, or I'll be back. Next time I'll bring a dementor with me. You lot won't be so gregarious with a few of them lingering about."

At the sounds of his retreating footfalls, Sirius let out the breath that he had been holding and sagged against the metal door. He knew that they'd had a lucky break but knew luck was a fickle bitch, at best. Sure enough, another loud voice interrupted his merry thoughts. It wasn't much of a voice, more of a cackle really. It belonged to the inhabitant in the neighboring cell; his demented cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Ahhahahaaa." She bayed. "What a gullible ponce you are. Is the poor little auror so feeble minded as to believe such tripe? Check the visitor's log. Maybe you'll find one of your ickle, little friends, Johannson was it? Yes, yes. Johannson. So hard to tell the filthy mudbloods apart. Maybe you'll find he's visited the ward recently. Hmmm. Maybe you'll find that he's missing, too. Hee hee hee. I wonder who he was escorting to the ward. Yes, I do. A visitor for Sirius Black, I shouldn't be surprised."

Sirius could only stare wide-eyed as Bellatrix began her mad, rambling diatribe. He could only pray that the guard paid it little mind. Everyone knew Bellatrix was as mad as a hag. Unfortunately for them, however, the auror corps were a suspicious lot.

"BlACK! Put your hands through the window. Let me see 'em!" The guard demanded.

Sirius drew back a step from the door. "Oh, come on! She's just trying to get my goat for picking on her brother-in-law." Sirius proclaimed with as much indignance as he could muster.

"Last warning, Black. Put your hands out the window where I can see them. You've got till the count of three and then I'm blasting my way in."

"Okay, Okay. Cripes, I can't believe you let her goad you like this!" Sirius said. He was thinking furiously, trying to come up with a way to get out of this mess. He knew time was short, but couldn't think or any way that the situation wouldn't result in spellfire. Whatever he did, he knew he had to immobilize the guard before he could sound the alarm. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his erstwhile rescuer, busily drawing some runes on his former bedclothes. Sirius shook his head. He knew it was only his rotten luck that his sole chance at escape was relying on dirty cloth and bits of string.

"One!" The guard yelled. Sirius walked up to the door and thrust one of his hands through the window, readying the wand to cast through the opening at the first opportunity.

"Both hands, Black! Two!"

"For Merlin's sake, man. I can't lift the other one. I think I laid on it wrong. Damn thing is asleep or something!" Sirius said, wiggling the fingers of his non-wand hand. He readied himself to react quickly to whatever the guard was going to do.

"Haahaa haa." Bellatrix cackled madly. "I wonder what the other hand is doing? Playing with your little auror friend, I'll bet."

"I'm telling the truth, I swear! If you don't believe me, look for yourself. You honestly think I would stick around in my locked cell if I had a guard in here? Or his wand?" Sirius asked.

"Black, I swear if you try anything, you'll never live to regret it. You understand me?" The guard said. From the footfalls, Sirius could tell that the guard was approaching his cell. The stealthy steps eerily loud in the suddenly quiet ward. Sirius let the man approach. He would need to get him as close as possible for there to be any chance at success.

When the auror finally came into view, Sirius was sure not to make any sudden moves. The man was big and burly, with a shock of jet black hair and narrow, beady eyes. He certainly didn't look like a man to trifle with. Sirius adopted his most jovial expression; one that had gotten him out of hot water many times in his youth.

"You see? She was just having you on. Stupid witch was always like that, you know? Knows just what buttons to push."

Sirius' lighthearted tone did not appear to relax the guard if his fierce scowl was any indication.

"No sudden moves!" The guard warned as he reached out his wand toward Sirius' outstretched hand.

Sirius watched the man's wand carefully. Just as he was about to cast a binding curse on his hand, Sirius thrust his own wand through the narrow bars on the window.

"Stupefy!" He yelled.

For all his size, the auror moved quickly. Without missing a beat, he twisted nimbly from the stunner and threw himself into a crouch, casting a blasting curse at Sirius as he moved.

"Oops!" Sirius cried, ducking down behind the cell door. Just as he ducked, the blasting curse impacted the bars, sending one of them violently across the room where it struck the farthest wall with a terrific crash. Next door, Bellatrix resumed her cackling. Sirius spared a quick glance at Harry who seemed to have finished drawing the runes on one side of the cloth and was busy copying his efforts on the other.

"That wasn't very nice!" Sirius taunted the guard. "That's destruction of Ministry property, I'll have you know! What would your superior's think?"

The only answer he got was another violent bang! as another blasting curse impacted the door. It carried enough force to rattle Sirius' teeth. The auror was no slouch, that was sure. Sirius hated to think what that would have done to his frail body if he'd been caught with it. Swearing softly to himself, Sirius readied his wand and conjured a flock of sparrows that he guided through the window and set to attack his opponent. Sirius was always a fair hand at conjuring, especially nuisance spells. The birds were no threat to the auror, but definitely were providing a distraction if the muffled curses and shouts from the other side of the door were any indication.

Immediately after the birds had left his wand, Sirius dropped to the floor and peered out the crack at the bottom of the door. Through the feeble light, he could tell that the auror had moved further down the hallway, probably to give himself room to vanish the conjured birds. Sirius had small experience with dueling, certainly nothing to match an auror's repertoire. But he was master at the pranking arts and had devised several useful charms in his school days. One such charm was an invisible enlarging charm that had proved very useful on the Slytherins. It could be affixed to any material surface and would affect anything that came in contact with it. It could also be used in binary combination with another charm, to limit the effect to the intended target. James, Remus and he had used it to great effect when they had applied it to the Slytherin bench in the Great Hall. There it would sit, completely inert, until some hapless victim whose pants had been charmed with the binary spell, happened to take their seat. That was when the true fun began. It was always amusing watching the stuck-up and snotty purebloods stumble around in pants that were ten times too big. Sirius had spent many long hours practicing it until he could cast it silently. He made good use of it now. He cast it all around the outside of the doorway, careful not to let his wand show through the crack.

By the time he had finished, it was obvious that the guard had dealt with the sparrows because the door continued to vibrate under a violent onslaught. In a brief lull in the spellfire, Sirius looked up at the battered door. I was definitely suffering. It had buckled in several places and the hinges showed clear signs that they were threatening to separate from the wall. Sirius renewed the seal on the door and did his best to shore up the damaged hinges. He couldn't risk further tampering. Sirius seriously doubted his conjuring skills could produce anything even remotely as durable. When he was as satisfied that he had done everything he could, he dropped back down to the floor. In a hurried crawl, he scuttled over to Harry.

"Cissy, how's it coming with….whatever that is?" Sirius asked.

Harry looked up at Sirius and then glanced back down at his construction. It was crudely drawn, but was as accurately drawn as he could make it. Of course, Harry knew that it was entirely possible that it wouldn't work, but he couldn't think of anything else.

"It's done, I think. Won't know till we try it. The auror?" Harry asked.

"None too happy with us at the moment." Sirius said."

"Do you think you can get him?" Harry asked.

"Get him?" Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You know….stun him…or whatever?"

"I don't know. He's a stubborn one. Got a few aces up my sleeve, though?" Sirius said.

"What the devil are aces?" Harry asked.

"They're a kind of playing card…" Sirius said. At Harry's confused look, he said, "Never mind. It's a muggle thing. Anyway I've got a few tricks left to play."

"Okay. As soon as he's out, we'll be ready to move."

"Right you are. Won't be but a moment." Sirius said, grabbing the unused portion of blanket from off the bed and ripping it into dozens of pieces. Standing up, he made to walk over the door, only to throw himself to the ground as a vibrant blue-white bolt of light shot through the window and into the opposite wall. Sirius looked up at the wall and was quite impressed to see a meter long spear of ice, neatly imbedded in the stone wall.

"Merlin! This blokes not playing around. Nearly took my head off!"

"Well, it might be good idea to keep your head down." Harry smirked.

Whatever Sirius was about to reply was cut off from an interjection from the guard outside.

"Give it up, Black. I've warded the door from this side. There's no way out. Throw your wand out and you won't get hurt!"

"How do I know you won't blast me the moment you have my wand in your hand. How stupid do you think I am?" Sirius yelled back.

"You have my oath. No harm will come to you if you give up now. I've already sent for reinforcements. They'll be here any minute."

"I have your oath?" Sirius asked. Even as he was talking, he took a ragged piece of cloth and transfigured it into a close representation of his wand. It wouldn't fool the auror for long, but a moment was all he needed.

"You do." The auror replied.

"Okay, I'm gonna throw it out. Don't do anything!" Sirius said.

Sirius took his real wand and quickly transfigured the remaining scraps of cloth into small, hairy spiders. The spiders tried to dart away, but a wave of Sirius' wand had them all standing smartly at attention. Sirius grabbed the fake wand and scooted around on the floor until he crouched at an angle to the cell door. Taking careful aim, he threw the fake wand through the window, making sure to clear the area where he had previously cast the enlargement charm.

"Good. Now stand back. I'm coming in. I want you to get down on the floor and place your hands behind your head. Anything in there that's not lying on the ground is gonna catch a bludgeoner in the head. You got that." The auror said.

"Yeah, I got it. Give me a second to get back." Sirius replied while directing the spiders to move towards the crack under the door. A second layer he knew the auror had discovered his little trap.

"What the devil?" the guard exclaimed. Sirius repressed a chuckle. He knew that right then the guard was wearing shoes that were about a million times too big. He also knew that big shoes would soon be the least of the guards worries. With a wave of his wand, he directed the spider to march under the door. He was not surprised in the least, when the guard let out a terrified shriek. A half ton of giant spiders would have that effect on anyone, grizzled auror, or no.

"AAargh! Get 'em off me! Aack!" Sirius heard him scream. Sirius leaped to his feet and darted toward the window. What he saw would have been terrifying if it weren't so funny. A dozen spiders, each at least three foot high, were crowded into the narrow hallway. The auror was struggling to free his wand so he could blast the things, but in the jungle of feet , he was having little luck. Sirius had to admire the man's courage. Sirius had seen people soil themselves for far less. Sirius might have, himself, if he didn't know that they posed no real threat to the auror. Not wasting another moment, Sirius aimed carefully for the auror's leg that was protruding from the pile.

"Stupefy!" Sirius cast. A brilliant beam of bright, red light shot from the wand tip and impacted squarely on the auror's leg. The auror lay suddenly still, caught by the well cast stunner. Another wave of his wand sent the spiders scuttling back toward the staircase. He knew the auror's would make short work of them, but figured that every second he bought was a second closer he was to freedom.

"Immobulus. Incarcerous" Sirius incanted binding the auror's legs and arms in charms and corded rope. Satisfied, he grasped the door and yanked. It wouldn't budge. Sirius aimed his wand at it. "Finite Incantatum!" He said, before tugging on the door again. Still it wouldn't budge.

"Damn! I hoped he was bluffing about that ward. I guess you're up, Cissy." He said, turning back toward Harry.

Since the cell door was warded, Harry decided the best chance for success was to place the portal on the wall that separated them from the neighboring cell. According to Sirius, the locked guard room lay just on the other side. That being the case, they could pass directly through the adjoining cell, without having to enter the corridor, which was certain to be soon populated with angry aurors. Harry carried the portal to the wall and placed it about halfway up from the floor. In theory, the cloth would adhere to the surface as its magic became active. Of course, that raised the question of how Harry was going to activate the runes without magic. As Harry pondered the problem, Sirius peered at the cloth over his shoulder.

"Is that it? Is it working?" Sirius asked.

"No. We need to activate the runes first. After that, the magic should be self-sustaining, I think. I've never tried this before, so I'm not really sure." Harry replied. "Can you activate the runes?"

"What? Me? Why don't you do it?" Sirius asked.

Harry sighed. "I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't. You were a daft hand at runes at Hogwarts, if I recall. If it's just a matter of the wand, you can use mine. Here…" Sirius said, thrusting the wand at Harry.

Harry looked down at the wand and then up at Sirius' expectant face. "You don't understand. My magic….I just can't. You'll have to do it."

"Your magic? What's wrong with your magic?" Sirius asked as Harry turned his face away in shame. "Cissy?"

"I can't get my magic to work, alright! I've tried everything I can think of and it hasn't helped! You'll have to do it!" Harry exclaimed in irritation and embarrassment.

"You can't be serious. Those are blood runes, Cissy! I couldn't activate them if I had to! No one could. You know that! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

Harry didn't answer, he just huffed and stalked away, leaving a very perplexed Sirius gaping at his back. Sirius opened his mouth to question his cousin further, but was interrupted by an unmistakable feeling of cold and dread. "No…." he paled. The dementors were on the ward.

Harry couldn't believe that he had come this far, only to fail. Never in his life had he felt so frustrated and alone. Because of him and his incompetence, Sirius was going to spend the rest of his life in prison and Harry would be lucky if he got a cell next to him. Just when he thought he couldn't feel any worse, he was suddenly gripped with such a feeling of desolation that for a moment, he could scarcely draw a breath. Like a flash, images started to float through his mind. He saw again, Tippy's broken and bloody body and then an image of a black tarp and the disturbed ground that marked her shallow grave. "Tippy, no!" He head his voice cry out, full of grief and pain.

Soon after, another vision intruded upon his mind. This time, he could see a woman, who loomed over him looking impossibly tall. She had her back to him and all he could make out of her features was the long, red hair that cascaded down her back in gently curls. He heard a high, menacing voice call out to her. It's sinister timbre awoke a primeval terror in Harry. Somehow it communicated unspeakable evil and immense power.

"Stand aside, silly girl!" The voice demanded.

"Spare my baby!" The woman begged. "Take me, instead!"

Harry didn't know who the woman was, nor who the voice belonged to, but Harry was suddenly, violently afraid for her. Even in his present state, Harry was filled with an unconscious desire to protect the beautiful woman. He ached to defend her against the sinister voice; to leap to her defense. Before he could act, however, there was a flash of green and the woman crumpled to the floor. In an instant, Harry's fear was replaced, or rather overcome, by such a white-hot feeling of righteous anger, that it took his breath away. The vision of the woman and her attacker disappeared as suddenly as it came, but Harry's anger did not. Harry blinked his tear-streaked eyes and the small, dingy cell came back into focus. Harry could feel the blood pounding in his veins and the only thing he knew was that someone had to pay. To pay for whatever was done to the beautiful woman in his vision and for the fear and doubt that had so filled his thoughts. Fear had no place in his heart. It was a foreign thing, a thing for lesser creatures. Whatever sought to attack in such a cowardly and foul manner, deserved to feel his wrath and judgment.

Looking around the cell, Harry noticed Sirius curled up in a fetal ball on the floor, moaning piteously. Here too, was a victim that needed his protection. He cast his eyes at the door of the cell, seeing nothing but a murky blackness through the barred window. As he took a step toward the door, he heard a sharp click as the lock was sprung. Whatever was on the other side, be it aurors or something else, must have lifted the ward that was blocking the door, because it slowly started to open. Before Harry could take another step, three tall, dark cloaked figures entered the cell. What he could see of their faces and hands, revealed grey, flaking skin and wide, puckered mouths. Harry had never seen a dementor before, either in person or in his books, but knew that these were them. On some level of his mind, he knew that they were deadly and dangerous creatures that fed on human misery and consumed the souls of their victims. The danger mattered not one whit to Harry. To his eyes, they were less than nothing; a dark blot that needed to be stamped out.

One of the creatures moved over toward Sirius, while the other two moved on Harry. Unknowingly, Harry's eyes had taken on a glowing, silvery cast and his hands glowed with a similar light. Moving faster than could be believed, Harry lunged at the nearest dementor and seized it by the arms. The creature hissed in pain and tried to pull away, but Harry would not relent. With strength much beyond his size, Harry swung the creature around and fairly tossed it at the one standing over Sirius. The two went down in a heap, but immediately rose up in a fluid, almost graceful motion. Harry moved to intercept the pair, when he was seized from behind by the third creature. It's grip was impossibly strong and Harry found that he could barely move. The dementor turned him around and crushed him to its chest. Harry could smell its putrid and decaying flesh and looked with disgust at its eyeless face, as it lowered it's face to his. Harry was so incensed that the creature dared to lay hands on him that he managed to push it away, before seizing it like he did the other. The strength behind his arms, swung the creature about with such violence, that Harry was able to nearly toss it across the cell, where it fell heavily to the floor. Unlike its brothers, this one took some time before it could rise to its feet.

Now, all three dementors stood and studied Harry from beneath the lowered hoods of their cloaks, unsure what to make of him. Harry, through the torrent of his emotions, was desperately trying to remember the lessons that Remus had given him on dementors. He knew that they could be defended against. The _Patronus_ charm could drive them away. In the back of his mind, Harry understood he wouldn't last forever against the beasts. He was outnumbered and his physical attacks caused them little discernable damage. He needed a way to drive them off that didn't rely on brute strength. Remembering his lessons, Harry focused on his happiest memories. He envisioned the warm summer playing with Tippy in the woods and he recalled the great love she showed for him, even unto death. For some reason, he also thought of the red headed woman standing over him in his vision. She too, had exhibited that same kind of love and willing sacrifice. As those two, seemingly unrelated acts coalesced in his mind, Harry realized who the woman was. His mother. Sacrificing herself in order to save Harry's life. The idea of her love filled Harry's heart and with it, he could feel his inexplicable power increase to new heights. Figuring it was now or never, Harry yelled out with all his might.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _He screamed with his hands outstretched. Despite his newfound confidence, Harry was quite surprised when he saw the bright flash of silvery light explode from his body. Harry looked down at himself in disbelief. The silvery mist formed a kind of shield around him that started a few inches from his skin and encased him from head to foot. The dementors reacted instantly to it, screeching and clawing at each other to get away from the hurtful shield. Harry almost laughed at their antics. He felt so overwhelmingly _good_ that he very well might have succumbed to laughter if he hadn't heard the sobering cough and rattling breath come from a reawakened Sirius Black.

Slowly, Sirius sat up and looked around. Harry rushed to his side and offered him a hand up. Sirius gratefully took his offered hand until he noticed the silvery glow. Hastily, he dropped the hand and almost dropped himself back to the floor, in his surprise.

"Cissy?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You were expecting?" Harry answered with a smirk.

"But…what….how?" Sirius spluttered.

"No time." Harry answered brusquely. "What say we get out of here while we can. It won't be long before the aurors arrive. What do you say?"

"Err…sure." Sirius replied, once more giving Harry a strange look. "Through the door then?"

"No, I don't think so. If we were caught out in the open we'd be sitting ducks. Better to seal it again and do as we planned."

Sirius opened his mouth to object, but was stalled when he noticed Harry confidently stride over to the Finn's portal and place his glowing hand over the center rune. Immediately, the runes activated one after the other. They flashed briefly and then completely disappeared. In their place was a large round hole in the wall that was encircled by a runic border. For several long seconds, Harry and Sirius stood staring at the hole, amazed at their sudden success. They were aroused from their stupor by a hew and cry from outside the cell.

"This is the aurors! Cease all resistance and surrender your prisoners! Failure to comply will be met with deadly force!" Came the strident call.

Harry quickly beckoned Sirius to seal the door and waved him through the portal. Sirius wasted no time. In a trice, he did as Harry beckoned, laying numerous wards and charms on the door and then took a quick breath and leaped, headfirst, through the hole. Harry quickly followed. When they reached the next cell over, they were greeted by a wide-eyed and wild haired Bellatrix Lestrange staring open-mouthed at their sudden arrival. When she noticed who had entered her cell, if anything, her shock grew.

"Cissy? Sirius?" She asked in disbelief.

Harry didn't bother to answer. He reached toward the portal and grasped at the border. With perfect ease, he peeled it from the wall. Sirius was more verbose. Adopting a carefree and jovial air, he wiggled his fingers at Bellatrix.

"Trixie!" he called. "Delightful to see you. Don't mind us, we're just passing through."

Harry immediately walked to the opposing wall and placed the portal on it. Just like before, a large hole formed in the wall. At his insistent wave, Sirius hurried over to the portal and immediately stepped through. As Harry made to follow, he was grabbed from behind.

"Cissy, you have to take me with you! Don't leave me here! Please, I beg…" She said, clawing at Harry's robes with claw-like fingers. Harry did his best to pry the fingers off, but she held on with determined strength. Just when he had decided to strike back at the deranged woman, Sirius poked his head through the portal.

"Problems, Cissy?" He asked.

"Get this diseased bitch off me!" Harry yelled.

"Right-O!" Sirius said gaily. "One crazy bitch, coming right off."

Sirius brandished his wand and sent a bright red light, point blank at Bellatrix' face, causing her to fall to the ground. Harry gasped in relief and stepped through the hole. Turning to look at Bellatrix, Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for her. He had no idea who she was or what she had done to get sentenced to this awful place, but didn't feel right about leaving her there, defenseless.

"What should we do about her? Should we take her with us?" Harry asked.

Sirius shrugged. "It's your party. I know you two were always close. I'd just as soon dump her down a well, but beggars do as beggars must." He said, before adopting a thoughtful expression. "Then again, maybe we should take her with us. That would certainly confuse things for the auror's, at any rate."

"Okay." Harry said, relieved. "She okay like that?"

"Sure. It should last for hours yet. Of course, we don't want to have to lug her around like that. Let me see…" Sirius said.

Sirius waved his wand and hovered her through the hole and onto the floor. With another wave and a muttered incantation, Bellatrix was transfigured into a mouse. Sirius then stunned her again, for good measure, before adopting a pleased look on his face.

"That should do for her, I expect." He said with an arrogant smirk.

Harry smirked back. "I expect so."

With that bit of untidy business finished, Harry turned to inspect the room they found themselves in. To his relief, it was much more modernly decorated. Instead of unfinished stone, the walls were bright plaster. There were cabinets along the wall, which Sirius wasted no time going through. Sirius let out a quiet exclamation when he found a hole stash of wands, all carefully labeled and still in their boxes. They also found several curious objects that were clearly magical in nature. One of them was what Sirius called a foe-glass and another was some sort of scrying device that resembled a hand mirror. Harry longed to study the artifacts, but new that time was of the essence.

Harry dragged a table to the center of the room and took out his bundle of string. When he finally got it untangled, he laid it out on the table and began the arduous task of attaching it to the ceiling. While Harry was doing that, Sirius had rounded up all the objects that had caught his eye and stuffed them all into a bottomless pouch he had found. Afterward, he applied some additional security on the door. Then, he joined Harry in attaching the string to the ceiling. This time, the process went much smoother than before, owing to the much cleaner surface of the ceiling and the porous nature of the plaster. In short order, they had it fully erected, though Sirius was still at a loss as to what it all meant. Rather than answer his repeated questions, Harry dug into his pocket and located the lead box. Pulling it out, Harry quickly removed one of the diamonds and glued it to the appropriate string. No sooner had he removed it from the box, the enchanted lighting in the room dimmed noticeably.

Harry hastened to finish the process before the auror's noticed the draw on the wards and pinpointed their location. Already, Harry could hear muffled shouts from down the hall. He was sure that Sirius and Bellatrix's absence had been discovered. Judging by their swift progress, Harry was convinced they would soon make good their escape. His hope was soon diminished however, because just as he was applying the final diamond, he felt an uncomfortable twinge in his gut. He recognized the feeling almost instantly. The polyjuice potion was finally wearing out.

For almost a minute, Harry stood transfixed as his skin rippled under the effect of the transformation. Suddenly, his robes were much too big and it was all he could do not to trip over them. His muttered oath drew Sirius' attention and the older man's slack jawed astonishment was soon changed to a fierce scowl and a pointed wand.

"Just who the bloody hell are you?" Sirius growled menacingly.

Harry took one look at his Godfather and adopted a sheepish look. "Surprise!" He said.

Sirius looked him over from head to foot. The longer he looked, the more confused he became. "Merlin's bloody balls! You're just a kid! Who are you?"

"Err…well, it's not easy to explain. No! Don't point the wand your wand at me, you cur. I'll explain everything later, okay?"

"No. It damn well isn't alright. I only agreed to this ridiculous enterprise because I thought you had some chance for success and frankly, I didn't have anything to lose. But, in case you hadn't noticed, we've got a whole herd of angry auror's out there, just spoiling for our blood. Now, I find out that the only thing between me and a gruesome death, is some kid still dragging at his mother's tit. I have half a mind to take you over my knee!"

For all his youth, Harry didn't take the man's words to heart. He had, after all, grown up hearing much worse from Uncle Charlus. But, that's not to say that he was just going to stand there and take it, either. "The hell you will. It'll be a cold day in Hades before I let a mangy mutt like you take me over your knee. I don't know what you prisoners get up to around here, but take care not to include me in your sick fantasies!"

Sirius just stood and stared at him, unable to form words. To Harry, he looked torn between outrage and shock. Harry had seen that look before. Inciting such looks on Uncle Charlus had been a major source of fun for him and the only way, truly, to shut the painting up. Sirius' stupefied look lasted for several long seconds more, until Harry was sure he had broken something inside his Godfather. He was about to say something else, maybe an apology, when Sirius guffawed in barely contained laughter.

"Jesus, kid! You really had me going for a second. You're a right cheeky bastard, you know that? Fantasies, hah! Good one, kid." He said.

"So glad you approve. Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to get out of here now. Those auror's seem to be getting closer and I think we're running out of time." Harry smirked.

Sirius glanced around at the door and sure enough, the auror's voices had gotten louder and he could tell that they would soon be at the door. "Right!" He exclaimed, joining Harry on the table. Only when they were in position, did another critical point make its way to Harry's conscious mind. "Umm. Sirius?"

"Yes. What is it?" Sirius asked.

"You do know how to apparate, right?" Harry asked.

Sirius gave him a level stare. "It's been a while, but yes, I know how to apparate."

"Oh good. For a second there, I thought we were in real trouble." Harry replied.

Just then, the door of the room opened and Harry and Sirius faced a large group of very surprised auror's. The two groups stared at each other for several seconds, neither group saying a word. Finally, one of the aurors, a tall and rather striking black man, with a shaved head and a powerful build, remembered himself. "Hold it right there, Black! Don't move?" He said, pointing his wand at Sirius.

"Kid?" Sirius said.

"Yeah, Sirius?" Harry replied with nonchalance.

"Where are we going?" He whispered back.

"Anywhere that's not here." Harry replied.

"Right. No problem. Just hold on tight." Sirius said, grabbing Harry by the arms.

The aurors, seeing Sirius Black grab a child, responded immediately. At once, a half dozen curses flew from the wands, flying straight for Sirius. Sirius watched them come, certain that his time was at an end. He stood mesmerized as the spells winked out, one by one, as they approached the string contraption that Harry had built. Harry took it all in stride.

"Any time now, Sirius."

"Sure thing, kid." As soon as the words left his mouth, Sirius and Harry swirled on their feet and with a loud crack, disappeared from Azkaban Prison.


	14. The Headmaster's Socks

Chapter 14; The Headmaster's Socks

Hogwarts castle stood silent as a sentinel, its towering spires and verdant grounds a testament to the best and worst of wizardkind. To stand in its shadow was to be immersed in history. The rough stone walls had long proven a formidable defense against goblin rebellions, dark uprisings and even the occasional schoolboy prank.

One of the current residents was all too familiar with its considerable protections. He stood looking out the third floor window at the picturesque view of the lake and the high, craggy peaks in the distance. His thoughts were not, as you might expect, centered on the past. No, he was very much concerned for his future.

Remus Lupin had arrived at this unwelcome waypoint, courtesy of a bit of trickery by the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore. To say that Remus was surprised at the events that brought him here would be a lesson in understatement.

The portkey had deposited him in the imposing office of the Headmaster. The room had been securely locked. Remus presumed it was password protected, but with certainty it was impervious to every spell he cast at it. He had even briefly attempted to blast his way through the wall, but the Headmaster's pet phoenix and created such a fuss, that he thought better of it. With a defeated sigh, Remus had slumped into one of the visitor's chairs and steeled himself for a long and uncomfortable wait.

As he waited, Remus studied his surroundings. He had never put much weight on ostentation. For much of his life he could, and often did, condense his possessions into a single trunk. Granted, the trunk was impressively charmed, but still, space was at a premium.

To put it bluntly, the room was a mess. Everywhere he looked, trinkets and bric-a-brac stood cloistered in nooks and table ends. Books lay in profusions and every flat surface was overrun with oddments and curiosities. Remus couldn't help but wonder at how the room's appearance might reflect the mind of its owner.

Nervously, he struggled to think of any way to get out of the mess in which he found himself and mulled over his response to the questions sure to come his way. In his agitation, he barely noticed when the polyjuice wore off.

After what seemed an eternity, the old man arrived in his office.

If Dumbledore was surprised at Remus' presence, he didn't show it. He had only raised one of his bushy, silver eyebrows and strolled casually behind his desk, sinking with a sigh into the comfy overstuffed chair. As he sat, he reached over and grabbed a candy from a dish on his desk. Wordlessly, he worked the candy back and forth in his mouth, studying Remus behind tented fingers.

Remus returned the silence, all too familiar with Dumbledore's tactics. At length, the Headmaster gave up on his sucking and Remus winced slightly as heard the distinct crack and crunch of the candy's demise.

"Remus my boy," Dumbledore said, "it's always such a welcome pleasure to encounter old friends in unexpected places! Don't you agree?"

Remus stared back at the old wizard, agog at his nonchalance. "Of course." He answered a few seconds later.

After several moments of study, Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. His bushy, white eyebrows drew together in thought.

"You know," he said, "Wednesdays are quite my least favorite days."

Remus had expected all manner of accusations and recriminations when he was confronted by the Headmaster. His actions at the Ministry were criminal offenses and despite his cordial relationship with Dumbledore, he didn't expect it to shield him from the man's disappointment. Thus, he was quite taken aback by the non sequitur.

"Oh?" Remus answered.

"Oh, yes. All of the others days have numerous things to recommend them. Mondays are always full of promise. They are days of renewal and new beginnings. Tuesdays are my bowling days. They're among my favorite. Fridays are Fridays and Thursdays are nearly so. But Wednesdays are neither pregnant with hope, nor do they have the promise of release. At best, they are placeholders, at worst….well,….they are like today."

"I see." Remus said, though in truth he didn't.

"Oh, yes. For instance, today I was quite looking forward to a peaceful morning organizing my sock drawer, when I received an emergency floo from the Minister of Magic. I was told I was needed to consult with him on a most urgent matter. In deference to the honorable Minister, I of course agreed, and made dignified haste to his office."

Remus nodded his head, quite sure that such summons' were part and parcel of the life of the leader of the Wizengamot.

Dumbledore appeared to have read his mind and answered his unspoken thoughts. "Such interruptions are not unusual, I'm sorry to say. Tell me Remus, have you ever met the Minister?"

Remus, remembering his run in with the portly man in the street, chuckled in reply. "I've run into him before, but we've never been formally introduced. We don't exactly run in the same circles."

"Well, suffice it to say that the Minister's definition of emergency has always been somewhat lacking. In this case, I found that he needed my help with the seating arrangements for a State dinner with the French Ambassador. You can imagine my joy aiding such a noble cause. After a delightful hour in the Minister's company, I regretfully informed him that unexpected business was calling me away."

Remus chuckled again at the thought of the powerful sorceror arranging placards and picking out china patterns. Dumbledore graced him with a rueful smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Yes, the rewards of public service are many and varied; Somewhat like torture, I'd imagine."

"Not something they put in the brochure when you applied for the Mugwump's position?" Remus asked.

"Decidedly not! Truly it shows my mother's remarkable wisdom when she advised me to take up the family business as a goatherd. Goats are much more agreeable creatures than politicians in my experience."

Remus could only shake his head at the thought of the ancient wizard at home in the company of goats. As powerful and canny as the Headmaster was, it was his considerable charm and humor that made him indispensable in his position. Remus had seen it many times in life. The Headmaster could put people at ease, even under the most stressful of situations. That thought brought him up short as he remembered his own tenuous position.

Dumbledore, sensing that the chance for levity had passed, returned to his narrative. "To continue our tale. Imagine my surprise when just as I was making my escape, I encountered a familiar face in the atrium. To find that familiar face attached to an even more familiar person, was quite a shock, I'm sure you'll agree."

Remus could think of nothing helpful to say to that, so chose to sit silently instead.

"Not that I'm not delighted to see you, my boy. You were always a favorite of mine and it has been too long since we've had a chance to…catch up, as it were. But It's curious, most curious indeed, to find you in that unusual situation."

"About that, I can explain…" Remus began, before being interrupted by a casual wave of Dumbledore's hand.

"Please, let me continue. Try to imagine my surprise when, after our encounter, I stopped by my offices at the Ministry and received word that Mrs. Malfoy is wanted for questioning in the matter of the escape of Sirius Black. The same Narcissa Malfoy that, to all appearances, I had just encountered in the atrium and whom I was sure was safely ensconced in my office."

"That is…unfortunate." Remus allowed.

"Quite so. That is why, I'm afraid, I now find myself in the unenviable position of posing uncomfortable questions to someone I consider a friend an ally, while my socks lie unsorted and neglected. This is a rather indicative of Wednesdays as a whole, in my experience. Which as I said, is not inconsiderable."

The Headmaster's words drove home to Remus the very serious situation he found himself in. As he was mentally kicking himself for his utter failure, the full import of the Headmaster's words set in. Despite himself, he couldn't help the look of surprise that overcame his face.

"You don't mean Sirius got away, do you? How? That's not possible. How did he escape?" Remus said in a rush.

Dumbledore looked at Remus over the top of his spectacles, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"That is rather the question I was hoping to put to you." The Headmaster replied.

Remus sat back in his chair thinking hard about what he had heard. For the life of him he couldn't figure how it was possible. Nobody but Harry and Charlus knew what they were planning and it strained credulity to think that the real Narcissa Malfoy and picked that day, of all days, to break Sirius out of prison. Not that she would anyway. Still, how had it been done?

The more he thought about it the more he realized that there was only one way it could have happened. He had given Harry the potion and the other supplies were right there in his robes. Somehow Harry had escaped Dumbledore, made his way to Sunderland and pulled off the greatest escape in British history.

It was all Remus could do to keep from laughing at the look he could imagine on Sirius' face when he realized who his rescuer was. Remus clamped down firmly on the joy that was bubbling in his heart and was careful to adopt a pensive frown.

"I can't believe she pulled it off!" he said with an angry snarl.

The Headmaster leaned forward intently. "Who exactly, pulled it off?"

"Narcissa Malfoy!" Remus exclaimed. "I knew she was going to try, but I just never believed she could actually do it! After everything I went through to stop her, she did it anyway!" Remus said lowering his head in his hands with a weary sigh.

After a few seconds he looked up at the Headmaster whose features were drawn down in puzzlement.

"Do you mean to say that Mrs. Malfoy was actually responsible?" Dumbledore asked. "Then what were you doing impersonating her at the Ministry?"

Again Remus sighed. "Something foolish it appears; Ineffective too. Though for the life of me I don't know how she did it."

The old wizard studied Remus for a moment before speaking. "Why don't you start at the beginning. I find myself quite at a loss. What made you think that Narcissa was going to attempt to break Sirius out of prison and how exactly did you intend to stop her?"

"Well it's like this," Remus began. "I'm sure you know that due to my…condition, I am often forced by circumstance to associate with, let's say, less than desirable characters?"

At the Headmaster's nod, he continued. "Well, one night, down at the pub, I ran across a man who also suffers from my ailment. Normally, I wouldn't associate with him you understand, but he had come into some money recently and was eager to buy me a pint. My financial situation being what it is, I could hardly refuse."

Remus looked at the Headmaster, and seeing nothing but interest, he continued.

"Well, one pint turned into several and I asked him where he had come into his money. At first he wouldn't say, but eventually he let it slip that an artifact had come into his possession that could negate even the strongest anti-apparation wards."

At this, the Headmaster's eyebrows rose and he fixed Remus with a determined stare. "And how did Narcissa come into it?"

"I was just coming to that. At first, he couldn't find an interested buyer. But word must have gotten around because not long after, Narcissa owled him claiming she had lost such an object and offered him a "reward" if he could return it to her. Of course he eagerly accepted."

"He agreed to meet with her, I take it?" The Headmaster asked.

"Yes. When they met, she was skeptical that it would work as well as he claimed. According to him, she asked specifically if it could breach the Azkaban wards. When he asked her why, she just claimed that it was a 'family matter' and refused to say any more."

"A family matter, you say? So you immediately thought of Sirius? Why not Bellatrix or one of the other death eaters?"

Remus mulled over the answer. In truth, when he concocted this lie, he didn't even consider that Bellatrix LeStrange was related to Narcissa. But of course, Sirius, Bellatrix and Narcissa were all members of the Black family.

Trying to think of how to answer the Headmaster, he decided that, in this instance, the truth was his friend.

"To be honest, it never occurred to me that Sirius wasn't who she was referring to, though it should have. She and Bellatrix were close and all of them were associated with Voldemort. Just another example of how I bollixed the whole thing up, I guess."

"Yes, but in this case you were not far wrong. Both Sirius and Bellatrix were helped to escape. The auror's are quite baffled by the whole thing. They did however, recover a rather ingenious device that would certainly fit the description you gave. Not before it did considerable damage to the prison wards, I was told."

It took a few minutes for that to process in the werewolf's mind. Sirius AND Bellatrix? What the hell were they thinking? During the first war, Bellatrix was the very worst of the Deatheaters. She had a reputation as a cruel and competent killer. Why on earth would Sirius include her in their escape attempt?

With a shake of his head, Remus decided to put the matter aside for the moment. He could get answers to that question when he saw Harry and Sirius. If he escaped his current predicament, that was.

"I guess it doesn't matter. I probably would have done the same thing if I thought she was going after Bellatrix. At the time, I just knew I had to do something to stop her. There's no way I was going to let that betrayer go free. Not while there was anything I could do about it."

"But why would someone of Mrs. Malfoy's station trust her purpose to such an unsavory character? Surely such a person as he is too leaky a vessel to hold such a secret."

"Well that's just it. She never intended to let him leave with the secret. The way he told it, as soon as the cash changed hands, she tried to _obliviate_ him. Just his good luck that she didn't know of his condition. As you know, werewolves are quite curse resistant. He was content to play dumb and let her believe what she would, so long as he got to keep the money."

"What did you hope to accomplish by impersonating her?" Dumbledore asked.

"A friend of mine in the permit office told me she was going to pick up her visitor's pass today. I waited for her near the Ministry entrance. I was able to stun her and get a hair for the polyjuice potion I had brought. She didn't have the artifact on her, so I went to the permit office and picked up her pass. I figured she would realize that her plan had been discovered and would call off the attempt. At the very least she would have to delay her plan until she got a new pass. That would give me time to think of another way to foil her scheme."

As Remus finished his explanation and was internally congratulating himself on his cleverness, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and chewed absently on his mustache, mulling it over in his mind.

Remus had to remind himself to breath regularly. His years as a marauder were standing him in good stead as he waited on the Headmaster's pronouncement. He didn't have to wait long.

With a weary sigh, Dumbledore straightened himself in his chair and fixed Remus with a level gaze. "Mr. Lupin," he said, "that is the second most convoluted, unlikely and preposterous story I have ever heard uttered in this office. The dubious honor of first place belonging to Maleficent Scaramander when she blamed her repeated truancy on a band of gypsies, an unlicensed timeturner and the illegal slave trade."

Suddenly Remus' self congratulation came to a screeching halt. "You mean you don't believe me?" Remus asked.

"Quite the opposite." Dumbledore explained. "No person of your intelligence would concoct such an unbelievable tale and have any hope to be believed. Neither do I believe that you would, in good conscience, help to free a guilty man from prison, least of all a man who was complicit in the murder of the Potters."

Despite himself, Remus let out an explosive breath that he wasn't aware he was holding. "I should say not!" He exclaimed. "So, what should we do?"

"What indeed? Needless to say, I think we should keep your name out of it. If you told the Auror's the tale you just told me, you would be locked up without delay."

Remus could only nod his head in gratitude.

"The best thing would be to let things stand as they are. Wherever Sirius is, he is unlikely to go far. The international apparation points will be closely monitored and the public will be alerted to his escape. His friends will be few and his movements will be severely limited."

"So you think they will catch him?" Remus asked.

"Undoubtedly." The Headmaster replied. "Unless he displays a great deal more patience and caution than I remember, it is only a matter of time before he is recaptured. At any rate, it is a matter best left to the law enforcement professionals."

Remus pretended to mull the idea over, while internally he was fighting to keep the grin off his face. With his best sober expression he looked at the Headmaster. "If you think its best…."

"I do, my boy. I really do."

"In that case, would you mind too terribly if I take my leave? It's been a trying day and I…"

"Of course!" Dumbledore interrupted. "How thoughtless of me. Please go with my best wishes. I trust you remember the way?"

"I think I can manage." Remus replied, standing up and offering the Headmaster his hand.

After they had shaken hands, Remus turned and made his way to the door, quite happy when the doorknob turned in his hand. Just as he was about to step across the threshold, Dumbledore's words interrupted him.

"Oh, and Remus? Please be careful. I wouldn't want to hear that you had done anything foolish."

Remus swallowed heavily and answered without turning. "I will and you won't."

After the door closed behind Remus, the aging Headmaster withdrew a key from his pocket and bent down to unlock the bottom drawer of his desk. Pulling out the drawer he reached in and pulled out a heavy wooden box, marked only with the single word, 'Potter', written in gold leaf on the top. Setting the box on his desk, he waved his wand over it in an intricate pattern, causing the box to glow briefly.

With great care he laid down his wand and opened the hinged top revealing a lump of silvery cloth.  
With trembling fingers he caressed the cloth before lifting it out and placing it next to the wand on his desk. The silvery cloth was a treasure of immeasurable value. Invisibility cloaks were rare and very expensive. However, comparing this one to an average invisibility cloak was like comparing a typhoon to a summer rain. As valuable as it was, it wasn't what captured the wizard's attention.

In the bottom of the box lay a curious silver instrument. Its sides were inscribed with faint runes and its spindly frame ended in a fluted spout. As curious as this object was, what startled the venerable wizard and left him gasping for breath was the emergence of a bright green puff of smoke that poured intermittently from the spout.


	15. Free at Last

The nasty feeling of being squeezed through a tube announced to Harry that they had successfully apparated. If there was any doubt, it was answered a moment later by the sudden twinge in his gut as he dropped two feet through the air and landed on his backside. To make matters worse, his fall was followed closely by his grizzled godfather landing on top of him.

"Oof!" Harry exhaled, laboring to draw breath from beneath the larger man. With some effort he managed to free his head and looked up to see a blank eyed Sirius looking at him with bits of straw sticking in his hair.

"Sirius?" Harry asked, growing slightly worried that the man had splinched himself of some necessary bits. When Sirius failed to respond, Harry pinched him on the arm, hard.

"Oww! What was that for?!" Sirius whined.

"I know you've been locked up for a long time Sirius, but I have to ask you a question."

"Huh? Oh yeah. What is it?" Sirius said, blinking his eyes in confusion.

"Is that a mouse in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" Harry asked with a look of wide eyed innocence.

"What?! Oh! Very funny, kid. You're a riot. Geez, what are they teaching kids today?" Sirius grumbled."

"Sirius?"

"What?"

"Seriously. You're smashing my bits here. Could you get off me? I know I'm adorable and all, but seriously. You stink. A lot!"

"Oh, right! Sorry kid. Give me a second. That really took a lot out of me. There we go." Sirius said, rolling off Harry and stumbling to his feet. After teetering for a few seconds, he bent over and gave Harry a hand up.

As Harry stood, he looked around at his surroundings. He immediately recognized the location.  
They were in the barn at Potter manor. He knew that the manor wards prevented unwanted apparation, but soon realized that as his godfather and a friend of his father, Sirius must have been keyed into the wards. It was only then that it hit him what the man before him meant to his life. Here was a real life, flesh and blood member of his family. Or almost, anyway. Here was a man who had volunteered to look after Harry and take care of him if anything ever happened to his parents.

The thought was overwhelming. Harry remembered his mum and the sacrifice that she had made to protect him. Suddenly, Harry's eyes filled with tears and he looked away, scrubbing at them with the sleeve of his overlong robes. When he had calmed himself, he looked up to see Sirius looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"What is it?" Harry sniffed.

Sirius looked down and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. After a moment's silence, he looked Harry in the eye.

"Look kiddo, don't think I'm not grateful. I am. I can't tell you how much it means to be out of that hellhole. But, who are you? I feel like I should know you, but I just can't imagine anyone I know letting their kid just run off and break me out of Azkaban."

"They didn't. I mean, I wasn't supposed to be there at all. But when Remus got caught, I didn't know what else to do. Someone had to get you out of there, so it was me or nobody."

Sirius seemed to puzzle over that for a second, before a look of delight and wonder crossed his face. "I can't believe it. So, your Remus' kid? Wow! That old dog! I can't believe he had a sprog! Hard to picture it, really."

It was Harry's turn to look uncomfortable. This was really turning out a lot more difficult than he had imagined it to be. "Umm. No. Remus isn't my da'. Just met him a few weeks ago, actually."

"So who then? I'm damn sure you're not Cissy's kid. I can't imagine that she'd let you go off to save your blood traitor of a cousin. Are you one of Andromeda's? She had a young daughter when I was sent away, but she had plenty of time to have another. What are you five? Six?" Sirius asked.

"I turned seven on July 31st!" Harry bristled, well aware that he was small for his size.

"Merlin! I've couldn't have been locked up that long! I mean, sure, every once in a while they'd let me read the paper. So I knew, but it seems so much more real now. Cripes! That makes me what? Almost thirty! I'm…I'm..."

"Creepy? Skeletal? Deranged?" Harry smirked.

"Old!" Sirius exclaimed with a look of such revulsion on his face that Harry couldn't help but laugh. Sirius gave him a dirty look. "Laugh it up kid! It'll happen to you some day too!" Sirius pouted.

Harry just laughed louder. The thought that a man that had been locked away in the worst prison imaginable, without family or friends or any material comfort for the better part of a decade, was worried about being old, was just too funny.

Sirius continued to pout as he studied the cheeky brat in front of him. The kid had wild, unruly hair and bright green eyes. Something tickled the back of his mind, but he just couldn't place it. The kid could be Andromeda's, but as he looked at him, he wasn't sure.

"When did you say your birthday was again?" He asked.

After a few seconds, Harry managed to draw in enough breath to answer, "July 31st" he said.

"July 31st…" Sirius asked, his face scrunched up in thought. Finally, his face slackened and then his eyes opened wide as he made the connection. "That means you're….but it can't be…you're not…"

Harry took in the man's startled expression and graced his godfather with a bright smile. Reaching out his hand, Harry approached Sirius. "Nice to finally meet you Sirius. I'm Harry Potter."

Harry stood there for what seemed like forever, as the look on Sirius' face cycled through confusion, surprise and then shock. Through it all, he just stood there with his hand outstretched and a grin on his face. After a minute, Harry began to grow worried that Sirius wasn't going to accept his hand. He wondered if Sirius blamed him for his captivity. After all, Sirius had been wrongly imprisoned for his parent's murder. Harry wouldn't blame him if he was resentful. Just as Harry looked up in Sirius' shocked face, the man's eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed to the ground in a dead faint.

Harry looked down at Sirius laying prostrate in the straw.

"Bollocks!"

After Sirius awoke, he and Harry had a tearful reunion. Harry couldn't remember him, but Sirius was filled with stories of playing with him as a baby. Many of them Harry had heard before from either Tippy or Charlus, but it was somehow even more moving to hear them from Sirius, especially since he could tell that those happy memories meant so much to the escaped convict.

Harry soon realized that Sirius was dead on his feet. Against the man's protests, Harry guided him to the couch in the basement and it took about four minutes for him to fall blissfully asleep.

Though Harry was tired too, he was kept awake by worry for Remus and wondering what he was going through. As concerned as he was, Charlus was even more so. When he had found out what Harry had done, he was livid. He had sworn up such a string of invective that even Harry had to blush. He was not impressed with Harry's reasoning and wasted no opportunity to tell him, quite explicitly, that he was absolutely not allowed to do any more thinking in the foreseeable future.

After he calmed down, they began to speculate on what the Headmaster's motivations were. Charlus reasoned that Remus had somehow tipped his hand that he was not who he appeared to be and that Dumbledore, through legilimency or just plain observation, had cottoned on that he was an imposter.

Charlus believed, but was less than certain, that Dumbledore would not coerce the secrets from Remus, but was unsure, given the werewolf's respect for the aged wizard, what he would willingly reveal.

They also didn't know what, if anything, the Headmaster would do with the information. As head of the Wizengamot, the Headmaster was sure to be made aware of the breakout and might feel compelled to investigate the matter. If that was so, a team of aurors and hitwizards could descend on them at any minute. Both Harry and Charlus were agreed that Remus would not want to risk Sirius' recapture.

The one comforting thought was that due to Harry's actions, Remus had not directly been involved in the breakout. His captivity at the hands of the Headmaster would be an iron-tight alibi. Still, it would be immediately obvious that he was, at least, a conspirator. They could only guess (and worry) what the Headmasters reaction would be.

Though Charlus was worried for Remus, he was more concerned that Harry's name be kept out of it. With the _fidelius_ expired, they were vulnerable and might have to seek other accommodations if it got out that Remus was staying at the manor.

Despite their reservations, they both agreed there was little, if anything they could do about it at the moment. With Sirius freed, they had another wand at their back and more resources at their disposal. If they could access either the Potter or Black vaults, they could easily acquire some muggle accommodations. If worse came to worse, they could flee to the Continent or somewhere beyond the reach of the Ministry of Magic.

As Harry laid down to sleep that night, his dreams were filled with thoughts of exotic and windswept locales. He dreamt that he was a heroic and armored knight, supping at feasts held in his honor and rescuing fair damsels from the teeth of angry dragons.

It was rather a letdown to Harry that he found Remus quietly sipping tea the next morning when he awoke. Just like the werewolf, Harry figured, to spoil his grand rescue. With the success of the Azkaban trip, Harry was really feeling his oats. He felt like nothing was beyond him.

-----------scene break-------

Magic, for all its rich history and spectacular effects, is a lot more complex than is commonly understood. It exists in the simplest of things. A child's laughter, full of hope and promise and ignorant of limits is a prime example. Yes, it can shape history and move mountains and raise an army of the dead from their crypts, but it is a mistake to think that this is the limit. Love, loyalty, friendship and sacrifice are every bit as powerful and far more ancient in their magic than even the most arcane incantations.

The woods outside Godric's Hollow, though impressive, were not extraordinarily magical. Through the long months of their quiet slumber, it was not unusual to hear from them the sound of the woodchopper's axe and even the occasional chainsaw. You could also hear the occasional chatter of squirrels as they harried about on their daily rounds or for the more discerning ear, the dryad's serenade for their hopeful mate.

On this particular morning the quiet country lane that bisected the woods made its winding path through the ancient boughs, nearly obscuring the seldom travelled path. Eventually it passed into a clearing, revealing an aging manor house that was surrounded by ill-kept grass and shrubs left long untended. Yet, for all that it appeared rundown, there was magic in the air. It was the ancient and powerful magic that revealed itself in the unrestrained bellow of laughter and the heavy crashes of breaking things.

"Damnit, Harry! Get back here!" Sirius yelled, bursting through the door scanning the room with wild eyes. His hair, no longer the matted tangle that it had become during his years of incarceration, was still a disgusting mess. Both it and his clothes were covered with viscous, sticky syrup that dripped from him in great globs onto the wood floor. Not only was he a mess, but his clothes were literally covered with spoons and other cutlery and his left leg was stuck in what appeared to be a mop bucket, the contents of which occasionally splashed over the side.

Mindless of the mess he was tracking into the parlor, Sirius stomped further into the room searching for his elusive charge. With every step his progress was marked with the _clunk, slosh, clunk_ of the mop bucket and his own inchoate cursing.

The object of his ire, Harry Potter chuckled from behind the sofa. "I told you were all wet!"

Sirius whirled as best he could and brought his wand to bear on the couch, summoning it to himself and revealing a startled Harry Potter crouching where it used to be.

"Not fair! We said no magic!" Harry yelled, darting for the nearest door.

"Well that was before I got my damn leg stuck in a bucket, wasn't it!" Sirius yelled back, aiming his wand at Harry's retreating back, trying to summon or at least slow the boy down before he got away.

With uncanny dexterity for a boy his size, Harry slid under the curse and scrambled through the doorway and out of sight.

As Harry dove through the doorway, Sirius hobbled after him, a sinister smirk on his face.

Sirius stopped at the threshold of the doorway and peered around the corner, obviously wary of further attacks. A quick look revealed only the empty hallway and the sound of Harry's giggles as they rapidly retreated.

Emboldened, Sirius managed to pull his foot from the bucket, and dashed down the hall.

Unfortunately, his mind was too focused on retaliation to be mindful of his surroundings. This fact became painfully obvious to the erstwhile prankster when he rounded the corner and stepped right in the middle of a portal that Harry had spread across the floor during his escape.

Even more unfortunately (for Sirius), his fall was not a quick one. His leading foot fell through the floor, but his forward momentum continued. In the blink of an eye, Sirius fell forward and down, meeting the edge of the portal with his groin and the floor with his chin. His vision blackened at the impact and he was blessedly too shocked to notice the incredible, gut wrenching pain of his extremities or his gradual slide as the weight of his legs dragged him down through the portal.

His landing however, was much softer than he had any right to expect. Someone, it seems, had graciously placed a massive pile of feathers on the ground where he landed. When his vision cleared and the pain registered, Sirius could only lay there and moan piteously. He was brought back to the present by an unmistakable snickering. Gathering his courage, he managed to roll over and brace himself on his hands and knees. Looking up, he saw Harry and Remus (that traitor!) barely standing under the weight of their undisguised mirth. Before he could think of a suitably caustic reply, Remus raised a camera in his hand and a bright flash left him blinking stupidly.

When his eyes cleared, he saw that Harry stood over him with his hand extended. Sirius allowed Harry to pull him to his feet as he took stock of the situation. It wasn't pretty. The feathers, it turned out, were not just to break his fall. From head to toe he was covered in the things, which clung stubbornly to the syrup. It was only then that he realized the degree to which he was set up. The planning and execution would have impressed him more, if not for the ache in his groin and the fact that he had been so thoroughly bested by a kid. The shit eating grin on Harry's face, however, was well earned and Sirius couldn't stop his own from appearing.

"Good one, kid." He said.

"So," Harry replied, looking him over, "who's the chicken, now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't rub it in." Sirius answered.

"A true marauder, this one." Remus said as he joined them.

"Yeah. Harry's a natural." Sirius replied, looking over at Harry and Remus with a suspicious twinkle in his eye. "You know what this calls for, don't you?"

Harry watched Sirius' warily as he raised his sticky, feather coated arms. "Umm. What's that?" Harry asked.

"Group hug!" Sirius exclaimed, lunging forward.

"Ack!" was the only reply.  
-----------------------------------------------scene break-------------------------------------------------------

Some days later, Harry, Remus and Sirius were standing around in the Parlor attempting to practice spellwork. Harry had just that morning had a breakthrough with his magic, managing to recreate, after extensive meditation, his _Patronus_ shield trick that he had used on the dementors. It was exhaustive work. Harry had been forced to recreate the emotional turmoil that had led to his first use of the charm. Needless to say, reliving your mother's final moments was not altogether pleasing, even if it was a bitter sweet memory.

When he succeeded, Remus and Sirius were astounded at the results. Once again, Harry found himself surrounded with the silvery mist. Though draining, Harry was thrilled to see that he could accomplish magic without the threat of soul sucking monsters looming nearby.

"Remarkable!" Remus exclaimed as he walked around Harry, poking and prodding at the shield with his wand. "Is this what happened at Azkaban?"

"Yeah. Pretty much." Harry said, waving his arms around slowly, watching the ghostly, silver contrails that followed in their wake. "Course, I wasn't altogether with it at the time, ya' know?"

"Of course, of course…"Remus said, rubbing his jaw in thought. "How does it feel?"

Harry briefly toyed with the idea of telling him that it felt like chocolate pudding, but was just too exhausted to make the attempt. "It pretty much feels normal. Tiring, but I think that was mostly from before. Now, it just…."

"What?" Remus asked.

"I don't know. It kinda…sings, I guess. Not out loud or anything. It's not like some blooming orchestra. It's more like it sings in my blood, if that makes any sense."

"Hmmm. Well, who can say? As far as I know, it's not something anyone else can do. Due to your…accident, it might very well be that you have a more personal connection to these kinds of magics. _Patroni_ are very personal manifestations, after all. If your magic is emotionally triggered, then it would make sense that you have a closer connection to this charm."

"If you say so." Harry said, finally letting the charm extinguish. With a gusty sigh, he slumped down on the settee.

Both Sirius and Remus were looking at him and their scrutiny was making him a little uncomfortable. Casting his eyes around the room for a distraction, they landed on the mantle where a very lifelike statue of a mouse was perched.

Waving his hand lazily in its direction, he asked, "So what are we going to do with her?"  
As the two grown men's attention was drawn to the statue, Sirius' eyes took on a steely gleam.

"Well you both know what I think!" Sirius exclaimed.

"Not this again, Sirius! You know very well we can't feed her to a crup." Remus sighed.

"I don't see why not. She was little better than a piece of dogshite when I knew her. Wouldn't be so much of a change, as far as I can see!"

"Maybe not, but even if we had a crup, which we don't, she's still a human being. Just because she's a homicidal maniac, doesn't mean we should lower ourselves to her level." Remus replied.

"Whatever!" Sirius huffed. "Probably kill the poor crup, anyway, nasty shrew. "

"So what are we going to do?" Harry asked. "We can't just leave her like that, can we?"

"Unfortunately, no." Remus replied. "That spell has to be recast every day or she'll revert to form. We can't take the chance that she'll come out of it and kill us all in our sleep one night."

"Can't we just owl her to the Ministry?" Harry asked.

"We could. That may be our best option. They could handle her quick enough. As notorious as she is, she'd be back in Azkaban before breakfast, I'd wager." Remus replied.

Harry couldn't help but notice the shiver that ran through Sirius at the thought.

Remus must have noticed it too. "What is it, Sirius?"

Sirius gave a defeated sigh as he joined Harry on the setee. For a few seconds he seemed to wrestle with his thoughts before he spoke in a somber voice more suitable for a wake than the sunny parlor of a manor house. "I know she deserves it, but I can't abide the thought of sending anyone back to…that place. Not even Bella. Death would be a kindness, compared to that."

"So what should we do?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. We can't let her go. That much is certain. She's just too dangerous. I was thinking…..maybe…."

Remus studied his struggling friend, not particularly liking where the conversation was headed.

"Sirius. Please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."

"It could work! Used to be done all the time. Hell's bells! They did it to my uncle Alphard, and he was the best of the lot!" Sirius exclaimed.

"By the Black family! Since when do you hold them up as proper standards?" Remus exclaimed.

"Not just them," Sirius shot back. "All of the old families used to do it, before Azkaban!"

"What are you…" Harry asked before being interrupted by Remus.

"There are a million reasons why that is a bad idea. First off, it's illegal. Second, it's dark." Remus huffed.

Sirius snorted. "Dark, he says! According to the Ministry of Magic? What are dementors then, whimsical, fairytale creatures? Hell, according to them, you're a dark creature!"

Harry was following the conversation, such as it was, with keen interest and quite a bit of frustration.

"What exactly are you…"

"That's beside the point entirely!" Remus interrupted again, his agitation clear in his raised voice. "It's a case of slavery, plain and simple! Any rational person can see that! The very idea is disgusting!"

At this point, Sirius jumped to his feet, his face reddening in anger. "So I'm irrational, am I? If I am, it's because the Ministry, in it's wisdom, made me so. How dare you try and put…"

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by the loud crash of a three centuries old vase smashing into a million pieces on the floor at their feet. Both Sirius and Remus looked up, startled by the violent interruption, to see Harry standing calmly in their midst.

Before they could open their mouths, Harry jumped in. "What the bloody fuck are you talking about and why the bloody fuck are you two shouting at each other?"

Remus and Sirius both looked chagrined at Harry's words and the calm manner of their delivery. Remus started to answer him, but Sirius overrode him.

"It's called a Binding," he explained. "Basically, a witch or wizard is bound by oaths not to act in certain ways. It used to be done all the time, back before Azkaban was put into use. Back then the oaths were bound under the Ministry's oversight, using the Goblet of Fire as an arbiter to guarantee the oaths were true and just. Obviously, we don't have access to the Goblet, but if we had Bella swear unbreakable vows, she would be physically unable to break them."

Harry turned to Remus. "Why would that be so bad?" He asked.

"Because Harry, that denies a person their free will. The Wizengamot declared that any magical binding that a person is coerced into, was a dark art. You remember how we talked about the _Imperius_ curse? It's somewhat like that. It's not unforgiveable, but illegal, nonetheless."

Harry considered Remus' words. "I don't get it. I can see that it's bad to take away someone's free will, but that's not what we're talking about. It's not like she has a choice between freedom and Binding. If she doesn't take the vow then she's off to Azkaban. As far as I saw, there wasn't a whole lot of free will being used up at the prison."

Harry's words left Sirius smirking and Remus with a scrunched up, pensive look on his face. "That's exactly the problem with it, Harry. We would be using the threat of Azkaban to force her into the oaths." Remus said.

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, but halted at Harry's upheld hand. "But, she does have a choice, right? It's a lousy one, but it's still better than what she had, if she were stuck in Azkaban, right? At the very least, she's better off that she was before."

All that night, Remus considered Harry's words. He had to admit, the boy made sense. He didn't like it, but he had to admit that much, at least. He also couldn't help but be impressed with Harry, himself. The lad was both sharp minded and sharp tongued. As he lay in bed, Remus chuckled at the colorful vocabulary that came from such an innocent and sweet looking child. And the truly amazing thing was that for all his profanity and sarcasm, Harry was a truly kind and wonderful kid. He was graced with an open and loving nature that couldn't be hidden by caustic words. As he lay on the cusp of sleep, Remus wondered what effect meeting Bellatrix Lestrange would have on the kind soul.

The next day, Remus, Harry and Sirius were busy preparing to revive Bellatrix. Harry was a little dubious about the caution that the two were showing in their preparations. Harry knew that the witch was dangerous, but what was the use in removing all the pillows in the room?

Their many preparations involved placing a series of wards across the doors and windows and removing anything that could be used as a weapon. When Harry questioned why such elaborate measures were necessary for a single witch, Sirius just chuckled and said "You'll see," and continued about his business.

When they finished, the room was left bare except for one cushy chair, a glass of water and three apprehensive wizards. In one of a series of seemingly random acts, Sirius had Remus conjure for him a fake wand and gave his real one to Remus for safekeeping. Both of them had grim faces as Remus raised his wand to lift the petrification curse.

"_Finite incantatum,"_ Remus intoned, waving his wand at the statuette.

The little petrified mouse was instantly awash in a golden nimbus of light as it slowly started to grow and morph into an obviously groggy and disheveled witch. Less than a minute later, Bellatrix awoke curled in a fetal ball before the dormant fireplace. Slowly, she blinked her eyes as they tried to adjust to the light.

From her position on the floor, Belllatrix seemed to remember herself as she scrambled to a crouch and looked up at the three wizards. Blinking owlishly, she focused her gaze on Sirius.

"Sirius? Is that you?" She asked.

Sirius nodded at her, offering her a hand up. Grasping her skeletal hand he drug her to her feet, where she wobbled for a second before straightening up with a crack of the spine.

Looking about the room, Bellatrix studied Remus intently, who was standing a stride away with his wand drawn and pointed in her direction. Harry also bore her gaze, feeling a little unnerved by her gaunt and hollow eyed stare. Eventually, she returned to Sirius.

"So. Not Azkaban then. Where are we?" She croaked.

"No, not Azkaban. We're someplace safe. You'll understand that I can't be more specific until we come to an…understanding."

Slowly, Bellatrix nodded at him. Looking around, she noticed the glass of water sitting on the floor near her feet and gestured to Remus and then at the glass. "Do you mind?"

At Remus' nod, she carefully retrieved the glass and held it up to the light and then brought it under her nose and sniffed at it. Convinced that it was what it seemed to be, she tilted back her head and downed it in one long draft.

Satisfied, Bellatrix stood silently studying the glass in her hand. The three wizards were content to allow her time to gather herself. She looked as if she were on her last legs. Azkaban was not kind to its tenants and all of them remembered the awful shape Sirius was in when he had escaped. If anything, Bella was even more gaunt and had about her a wildness that is difficult to put into words. Her ratty robes were a kind of indistinguishable color that was somewhere between pond scum and excrement and smelled about the same.

"That wasn't Cissy, was it?" She asked.

"No." Sirius answered.

"Polyjuice?"

"Yes."

"Him?" She asked, gesturing at Remus.

Sirius shrugged his shoulder in answer.

Bellatrix seemed to consider that for a moment. "What next?"

"That depends on you." Sirius answered.

At that, her gaze sharpened. "How do you mean?"

"Simply this," Sirius answered, "we do not wish to return you to Azkaban. However, we do not trust you with our lives or with our circumstances. If you prefer, we will stun you and hand you over to the aurors. But if you want to remain…free, then we will want certain assurances."

"What kind of assurances?" She asked.

"The unbreakable kind." Sirius answered.

Bellatrix tilted her head and studied Sirius before shrugging her shoulders. "What would you require?"

"Not to divulge our secrets, not to betray us, to protect, defend and obey us to the best of your ability." At the final words, Bellatrix visibly flinched, but before she could offer protest, Sirius continued. "Needless to say, these are non-negotiable." Sirius finished sternly.

"And if I do, then I won't be returned to Azkaban? I'll have your protection?" She asked.

"You'll have it. You'll be a ward of the family and protected by the ancient custom." Sirius said.

"Oh, Sirius!" The witch exclaimed, darting forward and grabbing a surprised Sirius in a fierce hug. As best she could with her diminished strength she whirled Sirius around, laughing gleefully and a trifle madly as she stumbled around in his embrace. When she finished her circuit, she pivoted with Sirius' arm clasped in one hand, jerking hard on his arm and pulling him to herself. In her other hand she clasped Sirius wand which she wasted no time putting to his temple as she snaked an arm around his neck from behind.

"Drop the wand, werewolf!" She barked at Remus.

Bellatrix, who was mad as a hatter, couldn't hide the shock on her face as Sirius started laughing.

"That's ten galleons you owe me, Moony!" Sirius chuckled.

"Yeah, yeah. You could have put up more of a fight, though. Might as well have stunned yourself and have done with it. Practically handed your wand to her, you did." Remus said.

"Oi! Don't be a sore loser, you ponce! She caught me by surprise, is all. Nothing nefarious about it!"

Bellatrix watched their exchange with a look of such bewilderment that she seemed to have forgotten that there were wands drawn. By the end of it, she was unsure whether to curse first or demand an explanation. She decided on a bit of both.

"What the blazes are you idiots jabbering about? Never mind! Lupin, you have until the count of three before I leave little bits of bone and brains lying about your floor!" She shrieked.

Remus just waved his wand nonchalantly in her direction. "Go on then. Curse away, by all means."  
Confused and apprehensive, Bellatrix dug her wand deeper into Sirius' skull, eliciting a wince from him and a growl from the witch.

Trying to save the shreds of his dignity and the skin of his scalp, Sirius cajoled her with a friendly tone. "Now Bella, don't be hasty. This isn't going to end as you hoped it would. Best just to set down your wand and talk this through."

"Talk, talk, talk! That's all you lot do! You and your blessed Order and their cursed laws. Don't curse the muggles, Bella. Don't use the dark arts, Bella. Potions aren't for recreational use, Bella. Talk, talk, talk! If you think I'm signing away my rights for you and your ilk, you're mad! _Reducto, stupefy, crucio!" _She bellowed, spinning in a tight circle and brandishing her wand in a set of highly controlled flourishes. It wasn't until she landed in a partial crouch with her wand extended that she realized that none of the spells she had cast had the slightest effect.

Looking bewilderingly between the hale and hearty wizards, Bellatrix turned her attention to the dead wand in her hand. With a look of disgust on her face, she tossed the useless wand at Sirius' feet and crossed her arms in a huff of indignation.

Remus, Sirius and Harry had a long laugh at the childish, petulant look on the witch's face. When it finally died down, Sirius was the first to speak.

"So, ready to take your vows, Bella?"

Bellatrix gave him such a look of loathing that it was all Sirius could do not to start laughing again.

"First tell me who will be included in these vows. You and the werewolf I know. Who's the little rat?" She said, gesturing at Harry.

Harry had been silent (mostly) through the entire episode, content to let Sirius and Remus handle the negotiations. But, his patience came to an end when insults were being thrown his way.

"Listen here, you old hag! Stuff a little rat up your shiveled, old cunny, you diseased, two-knut hussy!" Harry spat.

Bellatrix blinked at his vehemence, before opening her mouth then letting it close again. After a moment, she turned back to Sirius. "Quite the mouth on this one. Be sure to tell him if he spews that shite out of his mouth at me again, I'll stitch his mouth to his arsehole. Permanently."

"Easy now, Bella. I'm quite sure that would violate several of the oaths that we require you to take. If you're interested, that is." Sirius chuckled.

"Fine. Just tell me who it is that I would have to swear to." Bellatrix huffed.

"Sure." Sirius answered. "Just be aware that if you choose not to take the oath, we'll have to obliviate you before sending you back to prison, allright?"

At her nod, Sirius beckoned Harry over. "Bellatrix Lestrange, nee Black, allow me to introduce you to my foul mouthed, incorrigible godson, Harry Potter. Harry, this is my deranged cousin, Bellatrix." Sirius said with a smirk.

Harry politely offered the witch his hand, but Bellatrix' hands stayed firmly at her side.

"Harry Potter?" She asked with a surprised look on her face. Silently she stood there, studying Harry with an intensity that made Harry extremely uncomfortable. At length, her gaze met his eyes and then travelled up to the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

"Oh ho! What's this? She said, reaching up and brushing the hair away from the scar and running her fingers over it's jagged edges. Harry brushed her hand away with irritation. He didn't mind the scar; Hardly ever thought of it, in fact. But he'd be damned if he wanted this woman's filthy paws all over it. With a shudder, he looked up, only to meet Bellatrix eyes which were staring relentlessly into his own. After a second that seemed far longer, Bellatrix' entire countenance lit up with something approaching glee.

"Beautiful…." Bellatrix muttered reverently. Before Harry could respond with something acidic, she spun towards Sirius and extended her hand toward him.

"I'll take your vows," she said, as she clasped hands with her cousin.

Harry thought it was really rather a letdown. She had agreed to the vows much quicker than either Remus or Sirius thought. Nevertheless, the three of them had spent the better part of the morning arguing over this word or that phrase, until Harry thought he would be sick.

For all that the woman was crazy and creepy and filthy, she could haggle like a blind lawyer at a beauty contest. Harry was soon dozing off in the corner. When they were done, they woke him to witness the oaths.

With hands clasped, Bellatrix and Sirius took the vows. Basically, Bellatrix promised to protect the persons, property and secrets of Sirius, Harry and Remus from all threats and to the best of her ability. She further agreed to obey them in all ways that concerned the same. It all went off without a hitch until she came to Harry's name, where she added language that went beyond what they had agreed to in their negotiations. After a hurried conference between Sirius and Remus, they couldn't see how it would adversely affect the vow, so they continued.

On his turn, Sirius agreed to protect her and give her shelter and aid in accordance with the traditions of an ancient pureblood house. When they finished, the golden glow of magic sealed the vow and they released hands.

As soon as the vows were completed, Sirius started giving Bellatrix instructions that she was not to leave the premises or make contact with anyone without Sirius' permission.

All in all, Harry was a little disappointed. Sure, there was that bit where Bellatrix had tried to take Sirius hostage, and the later when she had adlibbed the vow, but otherwise it was mostly a tedious bore. Harry, however was not ignorant of such bindings. Tippy had explained the importance and power of binding magic when she had explained to him the bond that house-elves formed with their masters. He was also aware of exactly what Bellatrix was giving up, even if he thought she was getting a better deal than she deserved.

As the four of them started moving the furniture back into the room, Harry wondered what she had meant in her vow when she had promised to "protect, honor and obey Harry Potter and all that he is, from all enemies, upon risk of her magic and immortal soul." The whole thing seemed kind of silly and redundant to Harry. What did she mean, "all that he is?" What else would he be, other than Harry Potter? _Silly bint_, Harry thought as he dragged the end table into its proper place.


End file.
